My Black Sun
by CassieG66
Summary: Christopher Thomas is an eccentric math teacher who prefers to be left alone. However this is only one of his faces. Underneath the surface there is a dark world of secrets, lies, black magic and violence, where Christopher's true home is. Get to know his world and his many faces, where he is a part of complex machinery which pulls the strings of the world.
1. Prologue

Prologue

She was twenty-two when it happened.

Recently admitted to the Order, she was scared and confused. Suddenly she found herself in a new world, where different rules were valid. She was treading very carefully, intimidated by the sheer size of the organisation and its rules.

Getting admitted into the Order was strange. One could not apply. One just got admitted. Amelia was approached by a couple of people who met with her on several occasions. At the time she thought they were very interesting and she enjoyed talking to them. They had refreshing views on life, magic and evolution of the soul and Amelia was drinking it all in like a sponge. But then one day she was told she could choose to become a part of their community. She was not told its name, what they actually did there nor did she know how many members it had. She was just told it was an organisation which focused on self-development and magic.

She said yes without thinking.

At the time she desperately needed a change in her life. She felt she was standing on a threshold and it seemed that everything was standing still, waiting for some kind of an impulse, a push in the right direction. And it seemed that getting admitted into this strange organisation without a name was the answer she had been waiting for.

Once she passed through the ritual of initiation – or in her vocabulary, survived it – she was at once given tasks. And even though some of them were very strange and she could not understand why they wanted her to do them, she buried herself in work.

Mere months later she found herself experiencing her worst nightmare.

She remembered the screams. She remembered how the Order members were dragged away while she stood frozen to the spot and watched, wide-eyed and unable to move, as people tried to defend themselves but were taken mercilessly away.

She remembered the shots.

She remembered how she felt detached from her body and how her spirit watched everything happening, like in a dream. Her body was paralysed with fear and her brain was a mere observer, unable to process what was going on around her. Someone stepped up to her and she remembered a quick dialogue going on.

They asked for her name, but she was unable to speak.

"Not her," she heard a voice. "She's not on the list."

Hands picked her up gently and she watched the walls skim past her as someone carried her down the corridor. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest it felt as though her whole ribcage was vibrating. Cold, dry wind felt like knives on her warm skin and she turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of the building she was carried out of. But before she had a chance to see anything, she was placed on the back seat of a car which began to move as soon as she was inside.

A clammy hand was pressed on her forehead.

"Novice Amelia," someone whispered. "Are you all right?"

Amelia looked up.

An elderly man she recognised as one of the members of the Order was leaning over her.

"I'm not sure," she answered.

She barely managed to speak. Her throat was dry and her lips felt glued together. What she just managed to say could have looked like a strange case of ventriloquism.

The brother leaned forward and she felt something being pressed against her lips.

"Drink," he said with a note of sadness in his voice.

She gratefully took a sip. The icy water managed to somehow bring her back to the reality.

"What happened?" she asked.

The brother sighed.

"You are safe now, don't worry," he told her.

"Did they… I mean… who got shot?" she stuttered.

"It was a grand conspiracy and Washington had to intervene," said the brother. She was aware of another person sitting beside him and one more sitting at the front, but they were all silent. "But it's all right now."

Amelia stared into the night through the tinted windows. Even though she was still in the state of shock, suddenly she felt great comfort in the warmth and presence of the man who was sitting beside her. She barely knew him – she knew he was a member, but that was all. However, in this moment, nothing was more welcome than his warmth beside her and his arms which were draped around her shoulders, which were still shaking.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a windy day in June and Amelia was glad she was in a car and not outside. The music in the car was kept almost at minimum and all she could hear was a distant rhythm, to which however no one seemed to pay any attention.

The driver's eyes looked for the hundredth time toward the mirror. He was making sure the others were following, even though it was not necessary. They were all driving in the same direction and even if someone got lost in the traffic they would meet at their destination.

The air was rife with excitement and it was contagious.

"It will be strange, so many of us there," Amelia broke the silence. "Won't we stand out?"

The driver's eyes fixed again at the mirror.

"You leave security to us, Duchess Amelia," he said quietly.

She looked through the window at the pedestrians passing by, some animatedly chatting, some walking with glazed eyes and earphones on, some carrying suitcases and hurrying to get away from the annoying wind.

It was just another normal day in London.

But for the Order of the Black Sun it was an extraordinary day. Five cars were slowly advancing through the city and making their way to the airport.

As soon as she thought about the airport, Amelia's heartbeat began to race.

"What do we know about him?" she asked, breaking the silence again.

The man sitting on the passenger's seat turned toward her.

"I thought you were in the so called original cast," he said with a snide smile.

"Yes, of course, but that was ages ago," she said scathingly. "I was actually asking Count Frankie."

"Well, I last saw him three years ago," said the driver who was speaking with an American accent. "So I can't tell you much".

"What did he do in the US? Tell us everything." Amelia was bursting with curiosity.

The Count heaved a heavy sigh, as though he was readying himself for battle.

"He was admitted as a transfer to the Order in New York," he started. "There he just flew through the grades. He did his PhD at some university in New York. He was in Washington a couple of times, meeting with the Imperator. He is now twenty-nine – or thirty? I'm not sure – and I was present at his official inauguration ceremony, which took place in Washington."

"When was this?" Amelia inquired.

"A month ago," said the Count. "I got sent back and he stayed behind to take care of some things."

"So… what sort of a man is he?"

They just sped past the sign saying 'Heathrow airport'.

She faintly remembered him. She remembered him as a cheeky, young man who either kept to himself or lived to make fun of people. And it was just this not knowing that was driving her insane. Here she was, going with others to pick him up, the next Ruler of their Order, and she could not remember anything except a few details about him. She cursed herself for her lousy memory.

However, she knew he left a while before the shootings which was in the beginning a topic of endless rumours. He allegedly left for the US to do his research and write his PhD there, but once the official statement came through it was obvious Christopher was responsible for everything.

He went there under the pretence of doing research and he gave Washington everything.

The Americans knew the British Order had been split in two fractions, with one fraction supporting the Ruler and one conspiring against him. Christopher gave them all the names. The Knights who arrived from Washington had a list of the conspirators and one night, when the British Order assembled for a Ritual, they struck. They executed each and every one of the people on the list, taking the others like Amelia to safety. But unfortunately they were too late to save the Ruler, who was found dead in his home.

The conspirators had already done what they intended.

There were different reactions to Christopher's actions. Some saw him as a loyal brother who infiltrated the lines of conspirators in order to gather necessary information and give it to Washington. Through this act he showed his complete loyalty to the Ruler and the global Order. Some saw him as a traitor, who saw his opportunity in what was happening, used it for his own selfish goals in hopes of getting the throne of the Ruler himself.

Amelia had no opinion on this, since at the time she had been a Novice.

"The Order in New York describes him as strict but just," said the Count. "Anyway, we'll see."

Amelia climbed out of the car and stretched, watching as another car just pulled over.

"How does he look like?" asked the other Knight who just slammed the passenger's door. He had never met Christopher.

"About six feet tall, black hair, dark eyes," said the Count in a somewhat bored voice. All these questions were slowly getting on his nerves.

They entered the airport and Amelia was faintly aware of the excited murmur behind her back. The others were slowly making their way in as well.

Count Frankie – which was the nickname the British Order insisted upon, both because they loved to make fun of the American and because there was already one Frank present – looked at the enormous black board above their heads and Amelia followed his glance.

The plane from New York Christopher was on had just landed.

"He's travelling accompanied by three Knights," added the Count matter-of-factly. "For security reasons of course."

"Has his plane landed?" asked a female Knight, excitedly leaning toward the broad-shouldered Count.

He rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he snapped at her. "Has everyone gone nuts from excitement?"

"Great," said the woman, ignoring his rhetorical question and turning to the group of people who stood behind her, delivering the news.

Amelia stared at the black board. She tried to imagine what it must be like to be constantly followed around by armed Order members. It must be very strange, one had no privacy at all.

She tried to recall the face of the cheeky young man she used to know and his face appeared vague and blurred in her head. How many years have passed since then? He must have changed a lot, since he advanced in the hierarchy since then, but that did not mean his outward appearance changed. On the other hand, in most cases it was so. Sometimes it was different clothes, sometimes a completely different style. Amelia tried to remember the person she was so many years ago and resisted the urge to laugh. The two could not be compared at all.

"Won't he mind we're all standing here?" she asked no one in particular.

"Of course not," said Count Frankie matter-of-factly. "He would expect a proper welcome."

At long last people started to pour through the glass door and Amelia craned her neck. This would the person who was going to be her superior. She wondered whether he would recognise her at all.

The glass door opened for the hundredth time and a tall, black man emerged, dragging a suitcase behind him. There was something strange about him, Amelia thought. Some sort of a familiar vibe. She could not point her finger at it, but it was there. He seemed to be talking to himself but when Amelia looked better she noticed an earphone in his right ear. Following him were three more people, over who Amelia just skimmed for a second, but then her attention got drawn to the second person in line.

Was that him?

The tall man was walking with his right hand in his pocket, his gaze fixed at something in the distance. Two women started screaming and embracing each other and a look of utmost disgust passed over his clean-shaven face as he briefly looked in their direction. He lifted his right hand and ran it through his black hair which he was wearing in a ponytail. In this moment Amelia had no doubts this was Christopher, because she recognised the ring he was wearing and his appearance vaguely matched the one she remembered. The glance of his dark eyes quickly skimmed over the people who were standing around and fixed on the Order members, who were now standing there in utter silence.

Without minding the Knights who accompanied him and desperately tried to keep track of all the movement, he walked in a well-measured, leisured pace directly toward Amelia and Frankie, whose lips twitched at the sight of the monumental Briton.

"Count Frank," spoke the tall man in a bass. "Good to see you again."

The two men embraced and patted each other on the back.

"How was the flight, Your Highness?" asked Frankie.

He was already addressing him by the title he received.

"Non-smoking," replied the tall man. His glance skimmed over the group of people which stood staring at him and a corner of his thin lips twitched. Amelia was certain his glance paused on her, though. "I need a fag, now."

Without another word he turned toward the exit, with the three American Knights trying to keep up with him. Frankie looked at Amelia and grinned, patting her on the shoulder. What he wanted to tell was: 'do not act so shocked'.

But all she could think about was – THAT was Christopher?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Duchess Amelia could not help herself. Every now and then she had to try to catch a glimpse of Christopher in the mirror, who was now smoking one after another with his glance directed at nothing in particular and brow slightly furrowed, as though he was thinking intently about something.

"We took the liberty of purchasing a house for you," Frankie broke the silence. "Just so you don't have to stay in hotels."

"That is very thoughtful of you, Count Frank."

His voice seemed to be a straight line, Amelia thought.

"Since everyone seems to be here, a drink together is in order," Christopher continued. "Arrange it."

Amelia smiled as she looked through the tinted window. The very second he stepped on British soil he started issuing orders. But he was doing it so naturally that no one really considered them as orders.

When he left Britain, he was a Duke. He flew through two grades while he was in the US and came back not only as a sixth-grade, but also as a changed man.

Nothing of the old Christopher survived. Amelia could not recognise the cheeky young man who she met and deeply disliked in this tall, broad-shouldered stranger. He let his hair grow long, he gained at least sixty pounds of what was obviously muscle and he dressed differently. As he leaned forward to search for something in his pocket, his perfume flooded her senses and she breathed deeply.

Sure, he was handsome. It was obvious despite of the clothes he was wearing that he was strong as a bull and that he was regularly working out. His impeccable physique however seemed to be just an addition to the rest of him. As his glance paused for a second on her at the airport, Amelia felt as though it was going through her like a knife. She was certain at that moment that he knew exactly what she was thinking, how uncertain she was about seeing him again and that he also knew she thought he was handsome. She felt naked in front of him.

The rest of the passengers in the car were silent while Frankie made the calls and arranged the venue. Once Frankie confirmed that everything was arranged, Christopher pulled out his phone.

"Yes," she heard him say. "No, King Andrew, I didn't smoke in the loo."

She snorted with laughter, but the next second she tried to compose herself. Christopher felt obligated to call his mentor and friend in New York and tell him he arrived safely.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Christopher in the phone. "Yes, I'll let you know. Cheerio."

He did not lose his British accent. She imagined that after such a long time in the US his accent would get more American, but it did not.

The same rhythm was still coming from the radio, without the actual tune audible. Amelia was fumbling with her sleeves and thinking whether she should say something or not as the dark eyes turned upon her.

"Duchess Amelia," she heard her name. "It's nice to see how much you've changed".

Amelia felt her cheeks burning and gulped.

"You too," it escaped her mouth. The next second she wanted to kick herself for it. "I mean… it's nice to see you again." And then she thought about the correct way to address him. "Your Highness," she added quickly.

Some could get pretty sensitive about titles in the Order, but people were especially formal around Rulers.

She felt he smiled.

"You're one of the three people left in Britain with highest grades," Christopher commented.

"I suppose so," she said quietly.

"That means a lot of responsibilities," commented Christopher coolly. "But we'll talk about it."

"Of course," she said, now once again fumbling nervously with her sleeves.

Christopher seemed satisfied with this and fell into silence.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Everyone seemed excited at the prospect of having a drink with Christopher, even though they might have had other plans or duties. The Order in Britain was left scattered and destroyed after the executions. Amelia was promoted to Knight in Ireland, as everyone else from the scattered British Order which did not even exist on paper any more.

When the Knights from Washington arrived the British Order was told that the members would receive their wages directly from Washington and that for the Work of individual members nothing changed. But for Amelia everything changed. She would forever remember that fateful night and the screams.

And the shots.

For a very long while the Order in Britain was not an Order. They did not have a meeting place, they did not exist. Instead they were like a couple of teenagers doing magic at each other's homes, meeting privately and flying back and forth to Ireland. Amelia had even forgotten how it was to be a member of a regular Order branch, to have regular meetings, to address each other formally and do Rituals in a regular Order Temple. For her, it remained as a sort of a distant memory of the time she spent as a Novice.

Everyone knew someone would get elected sooner or later, but they somehow got used to this state of chaos. They even grew to like it. They were one big family, always doing Rituals at someone else's place, regularly meeting in bars and discussing magic and the occult. Until once Count Frankie, who was on a shuttle from the US and to UK all the time, came back with news. He told the summoned people who were sitting in Amelia's living room that a new Ruler had been elected and that he would be arriving shortly.

When they heard the name, there were different reactions. Some were shocked beyond words; some seemed to have expected something of the sort; and some, like Amelia, were just not certain what this meant for them. They rather liked their big, unofficial family. Why would they need a Ruler?

It dawned on Amelia that perhaps it would be rude to sit down while Christopher was still standing and remained standing over her seat. Christopher approached the table looking thoughtful and pulled back the chair at the head of the table. It seemed he was not even considering this place was not meant for him – and the naturalness with which he was doing it was very impressive, Amelia thought.

Everyone was silent as the waitress brought the drinks they requested, but Amelia was watching Christopher from of the corner of her eye. With a sigh he took off his suit jacket and remained sitting in a simple black shirt, which was taut over his broad chest like tennis net. His dark eyes remained fixed on his drink as his slowly reached out for the glass. As his long fingers closed around the glass, her glance fell on his ring. They were all wearing the same one, only Christopher's seemed to fit his white, long fingers as though it was made for them.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak first.

"I will set the date of the official Order founding in four weeks," he said, looking around the room. "Until then, we have a lot of work to do."

Official founding of the Order? But the Order in Britain had already been founded. It just… fell apart.

"Am I right to assume that the present Knights have been informed about everything?" Christopher asked and looked directly at the American Count.

"Yes, Your Highness," the American replied gravely. "And they all gave oaths of silence."

Christopher's glance wandered around the room. He bowed his head and nodded, pursing his thin lips.

"Some of you may consider me a traitor," he said, looking directly at one person in particular, who squirmed. "Some of you may consider me as a loyal member. Some may not be sure. But it's not important what you think about me and what I've done. I am and will always will loyal to the Order. And I was loyal to the former Ruler of the British Order. I've concluded that whatever happens, his life would be in danger, along with the lives of those who had nothing to do with the conspiracy. For me, there was only one thing I could do. Each one of you may have acted differently, but I acted as I have. I do not regret it."

Deadly silence fell on the table. It seemed that Christopher felt there were some skeletons in the closet which had to be cleaned right now. And a part of her was admiring him for being so direct and fearless, deciding to do it straight away. If there was any doubt before as to who gave Washington all information it was gone now. Christopher was openly admitting what he had done.

"What has happened to the building where the Order used to work?" he asked next.

"It has been destroyed," Duke Frank said. "We worked at each other's homes. The documents, papers, the whole archive is gone. It has been destroyed in the fire."

He used to be Christopher's best friend. And yet, since he arrived, Christopher's attitude toward everyone had been the same. It was obvious however, especially in this moment, that Duke Frank was confused. And possibly offended.

Christopher nodded seriously.

"That will be our priority number one. You, Count Frank and Duchess Amelia will start looking for a suitable building. We need a large car park, high hedge, excellent security system and a large hall for our Rituals. Once you find a suitable building, you will inform me."

Amelia nodded along with the other two, but he did not even grace her with a glance.

A part of her was getting increasingly annoyed with his arrogance, but deep inside she thought it was irresistible.

His gestures were so graceful they were almost feminine. He was obviously paying a lot of attention to his appearance, which was unusual enough for a man – even after such a long flight his clothes were tidy and an exotic scent was hovering around him. His face was smooth and there was not one facial hair in sight, whereas his jet black hair was neatly combed back and tightened in a neat ponytail.

He was a mystery.


	3. Chapter 2

AN: A hint of slash in this chapter.

CassieG

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 2

When Amelia opened her eyes, she felt embarrassed. Her inner Black Sun seemed to enjoy tormenting her because all night long she had been dreaming about Christopher. In fact, she had been dreaming about him since he returned to London. And the day when they picked him up at Heathrow was three days ago.

What was wrong with her?

Sure, the man was handsome. Sure, he was a mystery. But there was something about his graceful manners and about his arrogance that was driving her insane. In a sexual sense.

She had to compose herself. Frank would pick her up soon and they would together drive to Christopher's house to pick him up as well, because he wanted to see the building they purchased. As she rummaged in her wardrobe for something suitable to wear she thought about sitting beside him in the car and felt blood rushing to her face. She should not make an idiot out of herself. He is relying on her and what does she do? She gets a crush on him and cannot think straight.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

So far Christopher had been very content about everything. They purchased a very suitable house for him and even decorated it in a way he liked. Of course he had some objections but since they did not really know him, this was the best they could do.

He liked his study best. It was unusual. It was L-shaped, there was a reading couch in the other part of the room and also many sockets in one corner where he at once placed his laptop, plugged in all his gear and spread his papers.

He spent the last three days reviewing the documentation about the British Order and its current members, labelling the drawers and shelves and sorting things into correct ones. He also approved of the large wardrobe they bought for him – he certainly had a lot of clothes. There was however an insufficient number of shelves in his study. It was good that not all his books arrived yet, but he would need to order a couple of shelves soon.

As he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his belt buckle so that it was right in the middle, he thought about the three people who were going to be his right hands. Duke Frank – an old acquaintance. Duchess Amelia – he did not know her that well and he would need to remedy this. Perhaps an informal meeting was in order. No, she might consider this as a date. On the other hand, that would be her problem, not his. And then there was Count Gregory. Christopher remembered him as well. Something told him that he could rely the most on him, because he was an organised, responsible person, even if he was not very talented. Well, he would just need to invite Amelia for a meeting and get to know her. He needed to know who he was dealing with and who was best at doing what so he could divide the assignments accordingly.

His mother had no idea he was back in the UK and he would need to do something about that as well. She would go ballistic if she knew he was back and did not call yet. For all she knew he was still in New York. Christopher groaned as he unlocked the front door and stepped outside.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"By the way, who decorated my house?" he asked, adjusting his cufflinks.

Amelia felt herself blushing straight away.

"It was me," she said quietly. "I hope you like it."

"Ah yes, I forgot, you're an interior designer," said Christopher. "Yes, I like it, most of it. But I have certain ideas about the things I want to change. Come tonight at eight and we will discuss this."

He was not asking whether she was free or whether she even wanted to do it. And Amelia loved it. The next second she wanted to kick herself.

"Of course," she heard herself saying.

"Tell me about the building, Count Frank."

"It used to be a theatre," said the American who was once again driving. How he got used to the different driving rules, Amelia would never understand. She found driving complicated enough even with only one driving system she learned. But since the moment the massive American sat behind the steering wheel, he drove like a true Englishman.

"We hired about a hundred workers who are renovating right now, because of the tight deadline," continued the American.

"And what did you tell them about the future purpose of the building?" inquired Christopher, bringing the lighter to the tip of his cigarette.

Let someone try to tell Christopher he was not allowed to smoke in the car. No one really dared, even though the three of them were non-smokers.

"That it was going to be the seat of an association for promotion of healthy living and positive thinking, combining transcendental meditation and group work, which would explain the large hall we are renovating," said the American readily.

Christopher chuckled.

"Very good, Count Frank."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

From the moment they arrived Christopher began looking around and making comments.

"The car park is too small," he said as soon as he got out of the car.

Before anyone had the chance to comment on this, he disappeared in the building and Amelia hurried after him with her notebook in her hands.

She saw him disappear around the corner and followed.

"We need a connecting door here," Christopher commented, pointing at a wall dividing a small downstairs toilet and a sitting room. "This will be a waiting room."

Amelia managed to scribble it down just as he poked his nose into a small space on the other side of the corridor.

"This will be a small kitchen and we need a fridge as well," he said.

British Frank and American Frank followed him upstairs and Amelia hurried after them.

"This will be a salon," Duke Frank said as they reached the top.

They were standing in a spacious room which was currently teeming with workers.

"Good," said Christopher, looking around himself. "A bar here," he pointed at the left side. "And a lot of sofas, tables and armchairs. It needs to be cosy."

Amelia actually liked the sound of that. She tried to visualise them sitting here, laughing and drinking wine after Rituals. She could picture it very well.

"This is the hall," Duke Frank said, leading the way.

The workers were currently placing black marble tiles on the floor and looked up when they entered. Black marble was a tradition in the Order and Count Frankie knew this very well. On the other side of the spacious hall the workers were painting the walls black and Amelia smiled. She liked the look of the hall – even though it was a bit too large in her opinion. Two hundred people could easily fit inside, but apparently Christopher was thinking ahead. When the Order got bigger or when they would have guests, they would need a bigger temple.

"This is very good," Christopher commented.

He was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, completely ignoring the workers.

"We already ordered the curtains but currently they are fixing the windows," said Frank, pointing at the large windows. "They were not watertight."

"If you need ten more sockets as you said," one of the workers said, standing up, "we would need to drill in this wall."

He pointed at the single wall which remained white.

"Then do it," Christopher said without looking at him.

"Perhaps you don't understand how long it will take," said the worker.

"No, that's your job," Christopher said, still looking around and treating the worker like a speaking piece of furniture.

The worker widened his eyes. Smelling disaster, Frank stepped forward and placed a hand on the worker's shoulder.

"Look, we have a deadline and it's not anyone's fault," he told him patiently. "Do you need more workforce? Tell us. If you need to work in shifts in order to get it done, then please tell this to your boss and it will be arranged."

"I will," said the worker, whose face was now beet red with fury, casting one angry glance at Christopher, who was once again completely ignoring him and still looking around.

Amelia thought he was exaggerating a little and wanted to tell him that, but she could not bring herself to do it. Duke Frank's face however was displaying clearly his frustration with Christopher.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A Ruler in the Order of the Black Sun had almost absolute power. Hence the title. The Order itself was based on a strict hierarchy and operated on the principles of impeccable etiquette. The newcomers always asked the same questions – what if the Ruler of one branch of the Order turned out to be a sadistic idiot? The answer which the Statute of the Order offered to this question was basically: "well tough luck, you are stuck with him". In cases someone from the Order filed an official complaint against the Ruler, the Council would review the complaint, investigate and bring a decision. In case it has been found that the Ruler's behaviour or conduct were inappropriate, then the Imperator of the Order himself would need to sign his removal. But as far Amelia knew it only happened once in the history of the Order.

Christopher was just doing his job. And he was doing it very well. The fact that he was annoying people in the process was irrelevant. His job was to manage and oversee all of the Order's transactions and work. He had to coordinate everything and lead the Order in a specific direction. And he was doing all this. Amelia knew that this was how the other branches of the Order functioned. It was their problem they got a little lax about things over the years and did everything at a leisured pace. It was obvious however that Christopher was the kind of man who expected hard work, discipline and organisation. They would all need to pull up their socks and get on top of their game.

As he opened the front door, Amelia's senses once again got flooded with this particular, exotic scent he was wearing. She could not define it. It was not conventional for certain. It was a mixture of spice and it evoked a strange feeling within her. Was it longing? The scent itself reminded her of nights in a desert – wonderful but at the same time dangerous.

"Let us have a drink first," he said, leading the way in the living room she designed for him.

He was wearing simple black sweats and a fitting short-sleeved T-shirt, looking very relaxed in his house and on his territory. Amelia remembered with a pang how long she was choosing what to wear prior to this meeting and tried not to stare at his muscled chest as he sat down and leaned aback.

"Tell me something about yourself," he said, pulling a cigarette from the pack. "You were a Novice when I left the UK."

"Seems it was ages ago," Amelia said, watching him drape a casual arm over the back of the armchair. "I do interior design for the members and with the help of the Order I founded a firm which does interior design."

The dark eyes were surveying her across the oval, black table and once again Amelia felt naked.

"Married?" he asked without blinking.

Amelia felt herself blush.

"Divorced," she said quietly.

Why was he asking her this? Did he have an interest in her? Her heart skipped a beat as this thought passed through her head.

She was certain the corner of his thin lips twitched.

"Children?"

She shook her head.

"No need to be nervous, Duchess Amelia," he said, sounding amused. "You are going to be one of my right hands and I need to get to know you. I'm sure you need to get to know me as well. By the way, I like the minibar."

"Thank you," she said breathlessly.

"Get yourself a drink," he said with a hint of a smile. "I rely on my guests to take whatever they want to drink and also drink as much as they want."

She stood up and walked over to the minibar as though on autopilot. She did not really want a drink, but she felt somehow compelled to have one. He and his orders again. He would say something like that and everyone obeyed without thinking. That was true art, she thought.

She felt his glance following her as she opened the minibar.

"And while you're at it, I would like a glass of scotch," he said.

Amelia felt her legs trembling as she reached out for a clean glass. This reminded her too much of her last affair, the reason why her marriage ended in a divorce and why she was promoted to the grade of a Duchess.

She returned to the table with two glasses and placed one in front of Christopher, the whole time aware of his glance on her.

"Why did you divorce your husband?" he asked out of the blue.

Her hand, in which she was holding her glass, trembled so badly she had to put it away.

She could not lie. She could of course decline to answer the question, but for some reason she did not want to. No one really knew the reason for her divorce except her mentor who worked with her and suggested her promotion. But the truth was - she really wanted to tell Christopher the truth.

"I had an affair," she said quietly. "My husband found out and filed for divorce. I just agreed."

"Did you just fall in love with someone else or were you looking for something you couldn't get from your husband?"

He knows, she thought. Her palms started to sweat and she tried to swallow in vain. Her throat was too dry. She reached out for the glass and took two hasty sips. Christopher did not seem to be in any rush with the answer. Instead he was smoking calmly, with his one arm still casually draped over the back of the armchair and following her every move.

"I was looking for something else," she admitted. "It was this, among other things, that got me promoted in the end."

"I would very much like to hear the story, if you don't mind."

"I haven't told this to anyone," she whispered. "It's…" She took a deep breath.

"It's all right," he said quietly. "I swear I will keep your secret. I just thought you might want to tell me."

"I do," she breathed, lifting her glance.

There was something about him that made her really, really want to tell him. Above all he was radiating that familiar security she had missed so much. Someone to hold her and tell her it was going to be all right. Someone to guide her.

Someone to tell her what to do.

As soon as she thought this, she felt something strange. She felt she had a chance with this man, even if it was just to have sex. It would be fine. But Christopher seemed to wake the ghosts she put to sleep so many years ago and the old needs reared their ugly heads and demanded attention.

"I had sex with one of the employees in my firm," she said. Her own voice seemed unfamiliar to her. "And the affair continued, mainly because he understood me and my needs. He knew who I was even though I didn't. He knew I liked… well, enjoyed… his control. On the outside we behaved just like a normal couple. But when we were alone… we… I mean, he…"

"Did you have a mutual agreement with this man?" Christopher asked calmly.

There was something about his utter calm and the lack of any reaction on his part that gave her the courage to continue.

"Yes," she said with a faint smile.

Christopher hummed.

She was surprised he even knew what to ask and now a strange question popped into her head. As she opened her mouth, he suddenly smiled and put down the empty glass on the table.

"No, I haven't," he answered her unasked question. "But I know about it."

Her heart was hammering against her ribs. Of course he could feel what she wanted to ask.

"Tell me what happened with this man you were having an affair with," Christopher prompted her.

"We broke up a couple of years ago," Amelia said. "He found someone else."

"Do you still love him?"

"A part of me does."

"Why haven't you tried to find someone else?"

"It wasn't the right time. I had to think about what happened, about my divorce and about the new side of me I discovered. I had to process everything."

"Understandable."

He got to his feet and walked over to the minibar. Amelia's glance zeroed on his muscled bum as he leaned over to fetch some ice. Violently blushing she gulped down the rest of her drink. Just as she was about to set the glass down, long, white fingers wrapped around it and she lifted her glance.

The dark eyes were surveying her from above, again making her feel naked and as though he knew exactly what was in her head. But as their fingers brushed against each other she felt her stomach tighten. His scent flooded her nose and she felt as though she was going to explode.

And then the magical moment was gone. He took her glass and was refilling it. Amelia breathed deeply, trying to compose herself and stop the flood of emotions which was choking her.

In this moment she wanted him so badly she could not think straight. And she was certain he knew.

"What about your parents?" he asked as he placed her refilled glass in front of her.

And with that, the subject was closed. Amelia recognised the game. But she also knew she would play it every time.

She talked about her parents and her siblings for a while, with him asking well-aimed questions. He also wanted to know which colours she preferred, what kind of animals she liked and whether she enjoyed adrenaline sports.

"Good," he said contently after an hour. By this time Amelia was feeling tipsy. She was not used to alcohol, but at the same time he was obviously feeding her with it. He wanted her to drink and therefore she was drinking with him. Of course her drinking capacity could not measure against his. He was still perfectly sober, even though he had four glasses of scotch. But then again she was certain he was used to having shots.

"Now let me tell you something about myself," he said. "I'm thirty, I was born in London and I grew up here. I was a cheeky little bastard who liked to rock the boat, test the limits and generally monkey around."

She could not believe her ears.

"Until the PhD I was just pottering around and not taking life seriously," he continued. "But I had a rough couple of years in the US which transformed me. As a consequence of all this I was promoted to the grade of a Prince two years ago. I'm not married, never have been, I don't want to get married and I most certainly don't want children. But I love animals, especially dogs."

Amelia grinned. Was it the alcohol or was she really feeling more relaxed around him, she did not know, but in this moment she felt very comfortable sitting here with him and talking to him.

"May I ask why you don't want a family?" she felt bold enough to pose this question.

"I don't want any strings attached," he said.

"But marriage isn't a prison."

"No, but it's an obligation," he continued. "I don't want any. His Excellence has given me a very hard task but I intend to fulfil my duty. I intend to lead this Order into a golden era and transform the political and economic scene of this country. It will take a lot of hard work, but I always get what I want."

She felt her stomach tighten again despite of the alcohol.

"You can rely on me," she said quietly. "I'll do whatever you tell me."

"I know."

The knowing smirk dawning on his pale face had nothing to do with the Order, she was certain.

And then, as before, the magic of the moment was gone as he put some distance between them by leaning back and lighting another cigarette.

"What does Duke Frank think about me in your opinion?" he asked.

"He is resentful toward you," she felt compelled to say.

"Indeed," he remarked. He took a long pull at the cigarette. "He expected special treatment because we used to be friends. But he's not getting any."

"You could at least explain it to him," Amelia felt brave enough to say.

"I'm not going to," Christopher said arrogantly. "If he can't understand that we can't be best mates anymore, then it's his problem. But I'm going to invite him over and talk, as I'm doing it now with you. He needs to understand that things have changed. That I now have a position and a task I need to fulfil. That I cannot afford to hang out with him as often as before. We can have a drink together, but he needs to know his place."

The next two hours he questioned Amelia about the Order members. He wanted to know everything about them. Whether they liked to drink, whether someone was gay, whether someone was married, whether someone was known for hostile behaviour. And she answered every question diligently and told him everything she knew. She found herself spilling secrets without thinking.

"No, please no more for me," she said as he made a move to collect her empty glass. "I can't take a lot of alcohol."

He straightened up with the empty glass in his hand.

"Are you drunk?" he asked with a note of amusement in his voice, looking from above at her.

"No, but I'm getting there," she said sincerely.

The thin lips smiled and he moved away. For a while she listened to the clanking of glasses and tried to clear her head. She still did not do what he initially wanted her to do – make changes in his house.

"What is it that you need to change in your house?" she asked. She looked up as he placed a large glass in front of her.

"It's Coke," he told her with a snide smile. "It's okay."

"Thank you," she said. Again he didn't ask whether she wanted Coke or not, but just assumed she did.

"Well," he said, sitting down again. "I need a carpet for this room. Something grey and black. Or just black. It needs to be simple. If there's a pattern, it needs to be a simple one." He lifted his eyebrows. "Are you writing this down?"

"Oh! Yes," she said, hastily pulling out her notebook and beginning to write.

"I also need three bookshelves," he continued with his glance directed at the ceiling. "Black."

"And the dimensions?" she asked.

"You would need to see about that," he said, shrugging. "But standard, I suppose. As the one you already placed in my study."

"Okay. What else?"

"I need a new bed. This one is too small for me."

Amelia felt herself violently blushing as suddenly an image of him lying naked on his bed appeared in her mind.

"Black metal with a headboard," he continued with his glance directed at the ceiling. "The kind of a bed which will enable me to chain people to it."

He said it with in the same tone in which he remarked on the horrible English weather.

She just wrote it down and tried to compose herself, even though she could once again feel his glance on her.

"I also need you to design my temple," he said.

She looked up questioningly.

"I need a temple and the attic is perfect for this," he said. "I want the entrance to be concealed though. It would be best if you would cover the attic stairs with a bookshelf or something. Of course, this requires a couple of workers to be present here who will do it, but they need to be people of confidence. Can you find such people?"

"Yes," she said. "I can do it."

"Good. That would be all."

She wrote everything down and closed her notebook.

"One last thing," he said. He downed the content of his glass in one big gulp. "I can offer you an arrangement."

Her stomach did a backflip. Was he talking about what she thought he was talking about?

"However, it would have to be a part-time one," he continued matter-of-factly. "I will be a very busy man."

"Okay," she breathed.

"And of course the whole thing has to be between us. If you agree to these terms, I will draft my requests."

She just nodded. She would have to wait and see what he would send her and not ask stupid questions now. She was certain he was talking about the kind of 'arrangement' she hoped he was offering her, but she could not bring herself to ask. In fact, it would be a dream come true for her and for some reason she wanted to have it in some visible form to believe it.

"Now you may go," he said, rising.

She stood up and concluded her legs have gone all wobbly.

"Let me know when you find the workers to do my temple," he said as she followed him down the corridor toward the entrance door.

He placed a hand on her waist and she felt her whole body reacting to his touch. She turned to face him. His dark eyes were surveying her from above and his glance slid down her body. She felt herself completely melting and abandoning any pretence. She must have been blatantly obvious about how she was feeling because he smirked.

"You would like me to undress you now and press you against the wall, would you?" he whispered.

His warm breath felt like fire on her skin.

"Yes," she breathed.

His hand slid down toward her bum and gently passed over it. Amelia felt like she was going to burst.

He leaned forward and she closed her eyes. Her head was completely empty and all she wanted was him, in whichever way he wanted her. She did not care.

But he did not kiss her.

Instead, he ran his tongue over her neck and she threw her head aback, completely surrendering. Slowly and as though wondering whether she was allowed to do this, she lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders. A few seconds later he grabbed her for her wrists and turned her forcibly around, pressing her against the wall. She bit her lip as she felt searing pain in her wrists, but she did not let out a sound.

She expected to hear some sound indicating he was undressing, but none came. Instead the following moment she felt his hand lifting her dress. As he touched her knickers which were embarrassingly wet, she let out a loud moan. Finally…

She spread her legs more as he massaged her, expecting him to undress and finally fill her, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead he kept massaging her and did not even make any attempt to go under her knickers. Before she knew what was happening, she came. It was too fast, she thought. He must think I am a complete loser, getting so aroused I came within one minute.

She was abruptly turned around and he leaned forward, still holding her wrists so hard her arms were going numb.

"Did you expect me to fuck you?" he asked seriously.

He was not even pressing against her, he was still keeping distance.

She nodded, swallowing. He smiled.

"Not today," he whispered. "On your knees."

He released her and she felt as though she was going to collapse. However, she hurried to kneel down in front of him. Old habits kicked in. She knew how this worked. If she was not obedient and if everything was not just as he wanted it, she would get punished. Not that she would mind, though. But Christopher seemed to be unable to measure the strength needed to do something. Her wrists were throbbing painfully and she wondered how his 'punishment' would look like. She could not feel her right wrist at all.

"Go on," he told her, looking at her from above.

She quickly pulled down his sweats and swallowed him in one quick move. She wondered a bit that he did not already have an erection, but the man was obviously a master at self-control.

He grabbed her head and began pulling her head toward himself, what was making her gag but she kept on going, quickly ignoring the nasty feeling which was so familiar to her and trying with all her might to please him. She enjoyed every second of it. The way his hips began to move and the way he tugged at her hair, which was becoming increasingly painful, was driving her insane.

He did not moan. A quiet gasp was all she heard as she felt him spilling inside her mouth. She breathed deeply through her nose as he released her and took a step backwards.

"Swallow," he told her seriously.

She did, still kneeling and looking at him expectantly. He seemed to be measuring her up, as though he was trying to decide on something. But then, after what seemed like an eternity of her kneeling there and him surveying her, his thin lips stretched into a cruel smile.

"I think you will do well," he said.

She smiled uncertainly, her insides blossoming with happiness he liked her performance.

"Get up," he told her, tying up his sweats.

"I will see you in a couple of days," he told her, taking a step forward toward her. But still there was this painful distance between them. Gently he placed a finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers, not actually kissing her.

Amelia heard the door snap close behind her and closed her eyes. How she would drive home, she had no idea.


	4. Chapter 3

AN: Slash in this chapter. Enjoy ;)

CassieG

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 3

Christopher was very busy. He spent most of his time at the computer, the majority of it typing and some of it Skyping with other Order members around the world. King Andrew felt it was his obligation to check in regularly and see what Christopher was up to. But the most annoying part was that the New Yorker did not take any notice of the time difference and called while Christopher was sleeping.

One day Frank and Gregory showed up with new bookshelves and carried them upstairs to Christopher's study, offering to put the rest of his books which in the meantime arrived from New York on the shelves, but Christopher declined their help. He would need to do this on this own. Truth was, he had his own shelving system and it would drive him insane if someone did it the wrong way.

As they were leaving Christopher was reminded that he still needed to have that talk with Frank, but it was impossible right now. He however detained him and told him to come back in three days, to what Frank merely nodded and left. Christopher was getting increasingly annoyed with his attitude and his sulking and made a mental note to think about how to approach this matter. He must not lose his temper and start yelling at Frank because that would be contra productive.

No one said it would be easy.

He remembered how he fantasised about sitting on the throne of the Ruler; how he imagined it must be great. In the meantime… a lot happened. When he was told by the Imperator during a private audience that he would be given the title, he hardly reacted. At the time nothing really mattered anymore. He did not care about the title. At the time he was still rising from the grave and had no idea who he was. However, it seemed that the Imperator told him early enough to give him sufficient time to build himself anew.

But now he was better. Now he managed to create something out of the ashes, a sort of a starting point for the new Christopher and he had to congratulate himself on this because he managed it in two years. Some remained in this state of nothingness and hovering between worlds for years.

People might think his job would be easy. One just had to issue orders, divide work between people and regularly check on their progress. But there was the human factor. There was the sulking Frank, the insecure but reliable Gregory; there were a couple of people who saw him as a traitor and a couple of people who thought he would help them.

And then there was Amelia.

This could make things easier. She could be just what he needed.

Christopher lit a cigarette and tried to recall her body shape. Well, she was not tall. And he would describe her figure as 'fragile'. So she must be a size 6. He quickly logged into his eBay account and began scrolling.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Amelia's computer gave a loud 'cling!' sound for the eleventh time that day and she got to her feet. She had been sorting out some paperwork in her office and wondering whether she should try to find a substitute for her secretary who was on sick leave for the second week now. She could not do this on her own and the clients kept showing up.

Just as she sat down at the computer to check on the emails, there was a knock at the door.

"Mrs Barrymore?"

"Yes?"

Her bracelets clinked as she lifted her hand to place it on the table.

"Please sign here," said the postman, placing a form on her desk. Amelia was not paying attention to what she was signing, because her eyes remained fixed on the package.

What could this be?

She could hear the distant typing and a phone ringing as she tackled the package, trying to tear it open.

"Ridiculous," she muttered to herself, surveying the stubborn package which just would not open. She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed her letter opener. At long last the package, which someone purposefully covered in endless layers of duct tape, sprang open and she leaned triumphantly over it.

Inside was a pair of shoes, something black which was obviously clothes and a note.

As soon as she saw the name on the note, her legs got all wobbly and she let herself fall back on her chair, still holding the note in her hand.

'Wear these tonight at 9pm, my place. Christopher'

She was still staring at the note with her heart pounding in her throat as her office door opened.

"Amelia," her employee said, "Mr Andrews called again. I thought you might want to talk to him? Good God, what happened to you?"

Her glance fell on Amelia's right wrist which was swollen like a cucumber. Right now it was going through a very colourful green and blue phase. Amelia quickly pulled down her sleeve and felt herself blush.

"It's nothing," she commented, certain she was red in the face. "I was an idiot, I didn't watch where I was going and tumbled down the stairs."

Her employee lifted an eyebrow, but decided not to remark on it. As soon as the door closed after her Amelia sighed, looking down at her swollen wrist. She was lucky Christopher did not break it. She had been hiding it for days, even though she might have just come up with some stupid excuse like she did just now. But for some reason she wanted to keep this secret. Her swollen wrist reminded her of him and she wanted this memory for herself.

She looked down on the package and pulled out the shoes. Christopher had taste, even though Amelia normally did not wear such things. He also sent her a beautiful, elegant black dress, also something she did not normally wear. But she would wear both tonight.

With a goofy smile plastered over her face she turned to her monitor and saw three more e-mails from Christopher have arrived. The man was impossible. Already the first day he started sending them tasks on their Order e-mails but it did not stop there. He created a high-security forum for quick information exchange where he could follow conversations as members who were teamed up together discussed details and sent each other updates.

Amelia clicked on the first two mails and printed what he wanted her to do, since writing was hard for her, thanks to her swollen wrist. The third one arrived on her private e-mail and as soon as she opened it, her stomach did a backflip.

He sent her his requests.

She opened the Word document and began to read. With every word she read her eyes grew bigger and bigger. The man was not joking. He was dead serious about this. And he obviously thought about everything. Behind every item stood an insanely logical mind, which took into consideration absolutely everything. If she had to honest with herself she would say no to most of his demands. But she could not.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She put on the shoes he gave her after she parked in front of Christopher's house. Driving in those high heels would have been an impossible feat.

He was wearing a black suit without a tie. Not many people looked good in all-black combinations, but Christopher seemed to have been born to wear black. His pace echoed in the hallway as he went around her and his dark eyes glinted in semi-darkness as his glance travelled over her figure. However he made no move to touch her.

"Very good," he said. "Follow me."

She followed him without a word into his living room, where a pile of papers stood on the table, parallel to the rim of it. A glass of red wine was waiting for her as she sat down where he showed her.

Amelia swallowed as he sat down opposite her, crossing his legs and fixing her with his glance.

"Have you read my demands?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Do you want to change or add something?"

She shook her head.

"Well, that makes things much simpler," he commented. "I'll consider the matter closed, then."

She heard him light a cigarette and tried to steady her breathing. It almost seemed as though he expected her not to have anything objections to his demands.

"Did I do this do you?" he asked.

He nodded at her swollen wrist.

"Yes," she breathed.

He merely hummed as a comment.

"We will discuss Order-related things later," he said. "Now drink your wine."

Half-wondering whether he put something in it but really not caring, she took the glass and began to drink. The whole time she could feel his glance on her, following her every move. He smoked in silence and just watched her. A phone vibrated in his pocket, but he did not react.

"Come," he said after what seemed like an eternity.

He buttoned his suit jacket as he got up and she followed him upstairs. Her heart was hammering against her ribs as he led her into his sleeping room. Would he…? Now?

His eyes were glinting like those of a predator in the semi-darkness of the room, which was illuminated only by the single lamp with grey shading on the night table. She stared into his eyes, unable to move. For one long straining moment his glance travelled along her front, but then he lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder. Slowly he ran his hand down her front, brushing against her almost flat chest and then going down. She held her breath as his hand slid under her dress, but it did not stop there. His lips curled into a satisfied smile.

"Sit down on the bed," he ordered her.

Not breaking the eye contact, she did as he told her. He lowered himself to a crouch and pulled something from underneath the bed. Amelia gasped for air as she felt him tying her ankles together.

"Since I already ruined those frail little wrists," he commented with a cruel little smile, tightening the strap. She swallowed.

He leaned forward and gently lowered her dress straps to reveal her bra. Amelia could barely breathe. He was looking at her with utmost seriousness as he undid the bra and tossed it aside. His glance travelled over her small breasts but he did not touch them. Instead he leaned a bit aback to survey his work.

"Spread your legs," he told her.

She quickly obeyed.

He did not lift her dress, though. Instead he just slid a careful finger inside her, pulled it out and licked his fingers, still not breaking the eye contact. Amelia felt she was going to go insane if he continued this.

"Good," he commented. "Get up."

As she got to her feet and barely remained standing, he placed a large laundry basket next to his wardrobe.

"I want you to fold my underwear," he told her. "You will do it like this."

He demonstrated folding his boxers once, turning around, folding for the second time and then placed the perfectly folded boxers in a drawer which was labelled with 'boxers'. She stared.

"But on all fours and no masturbating," he told her. "Don't think I would not know. You may begin."

Amelia has never done anything like this. She got to her knees, with her head now very close to his crotch, and took one pair of black boxers from the laundry basket. She felt his glance following what she was doing as she folded them exactly as he told her and then placed them beside the first pair in the drawer.

"Very good," he praised her. "I will come back to check on your work."

And with that he disappeared from the room. Amelia began carefully folding his boxers, wondering at the amount of it and trying to ignore the pulsing feeling in her knickers.

About ten minutes later she heard him talking to someone on Skype. Then, just after the conversation ended, the doorbell rang. Slightly alarmed with this, she looked up from her task and listened. She heard voices and then a door slammed close. He locked her in, so there was no danger in someone walking in on her. She should do as he told her. She was certain he had it under control.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

About half an hour later she heard the door unlock and looked up from her task as he walked in. He closed the door behind him and took in the scene. She was still kneeling with her breasts exposed, folding his boxers. Now she was on boxers number forty-something. The man certainly had a lot of underwear.

"Get up," he told her.

She almost fell as she did so.

"Sit on the bed," he told her quietly. "Spread your legs".

She gasped as he slid two fingers in her this time, never breaking the eye contact. His fingers teased her from inside and he kept sliding them in and pulling them out. Amelia felt like she was going to come soon. Then abruptly he stopped, licked his fingers and stood up.

"Continue with your task," he told her as he left her to the laundry basket and the drawer once again.

Amelia's fingers slid under her dress a couple of times, but each time she stopped herself and continued folding his boxers. She knew she was not allowed to relieve herself, but how would he know?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I only wish you sent emails more often," Frank was saying.

Christopher cast a glance at his phone. He could see Amelia, still kneeling on the floor, but it was obvious that she was not folding his boxers. She was masturbating.

Well, well. He would just need to do something about that, but later.

He took a sip of his scotch.

"I cannot give you any other reason for not sending cheerful mails about what I was doing except one – Initiation," he told Frank. "The world beyond the grade of Duke is a very dark place indeed. I understand you're confused and perhaps hurt I haven't been in contact more often, but you're a Knight of the Black Sun. You should know Initiation is one of the most complex and difficult processes in life."

"I understand that," Frank said with a sigh.

"But right now I need you to stand behind me," Christopher said. "I need your absolute support and loyalty."

"You have both," Frank said sincerely.

"But it's also a matter of trust," Christopher continued. "Do you trust me? If I give you a really strange order and if I tell you it's urgent, will you question my reasons or do you trust me so much you would do it without question?"

Frank opened his mouth and closed it again.

"I sense the answer is no," Christopher continued. "We need to work on that."

"It's just that I need to understand your reasons."

"Perhaps you can't," Christopher said quietly. "Perhaps even I can't understand why I feel something needs to be done certain way. But it's my job. I follow my intuition and do what's best for the Order and for our country. Sometimes even I don't know why. Did you think about that?"

Frank bowed his head and Christopher looked down on his phone. Amelia was once again folding his boxers.

"You're right," Frank said at length.

"Do you know what is the true meaning behind the gesture of kissing the hand of the Ruler?"

"Trust," Frank said with his eyes slightly moist. "Loyalty".

"But above all, trust," Christopher said. "It's not meant to be a demeaning gesture, but an expression of trust. You can't know everything I've been through in New York. You may not even understand it. I may not still understand it. But His Excellence chose me. I need your complete trust in my capabilities and my decisions. If you, as an old brother and friend, can't show me complete trust, the others won't either."

"I understand," whispered Frank. "I'm sorry. I trust you."

"We have a lot of work and I need to know I can completely rely on you."

"You can."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

By the time Christopher arrived to the sleeping room, Amelia was already done with her task but she was still kneeling in front of the drawer.

His eyes travelled from the drawer to her, then to the empty basket and then back to her.

"You've completed the task, very good," he said, closing the door behind him.

He came to a stand right in front of her and placed a finger under her chin.

"But you've been a bad girl," he whispered, his finger tracing her jawline. "You thought I wouldn't know you've been masturbating?"

She held her breath. How on earth could he tell?

With one forceful, sudden movement he lifted her in the air and threw her on the bed. It was so sudden and so rough she screamed. Her ankles felt numb and her knees were throbbing, but all of this seemed somehow distant as he untied her ankles and climbed on top of her.

"How should I punish you?" he mused, glancing over her naked front. Suddenly he grabbed her for her throat and she gurgled. "I must not give you what you want and I know what you want. You want me to fuck you, hard."

She tried to breathe in, but it was impossible. For the first time after the pinned her to the wall several days ago she felt blinding fear. She had absolutely no idea what he was going to do.

With this man nothing was certain. But what was worst, she felt there was something dark and horrible underneath, which struggled to break free. There was this insanity deep within him, which she only glimpsed and could not understand. All she knew was that it instilled such fear in her, that she wanted to jump out of her own skin.

"Please," she whispered. "I can't…"

"Do you like pain, Amelia?" he asked, slowly releasing her throat. She coughed. "I think you must love it. Since you've so cheekily disobeyed me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I… I couldn't take it anymore."

"Haven't you learned self-control during your time as a Countess?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," she whispered. His hands purposefully grabbed her wrists and she screamed in pain.

He showed no reaction to her screams and gasps of pain, but instead glanced over her as though he was trying to decide on something.

Then he flipped her around and quickly lifted her dress. Amelia struggled for breath, feeling him pulling down her knickers. Would he really…? Finally?

She heard the clanking of his belt and closed her eyes. It seemed he was taking off his trousers, which could mean only one thing. The next moment she screamed in pain.

"Count!" he ordered.

She tried to catch her breath.

"One," she panted.

He swung with the belt again.

She screamed again, but managed to whisper the number.

"You DO like pain," he commented.

And swung with the belt again.

He laughed. It was a strange, throaty laugh which made all her hairs stand on end. She felt he could go on like this forever. Because the sadistic part of him loved it. For him, she felt, it was not about sex. It was about power.

After what seemed like an eternity of pain, he stopped. Amelia was breathing as though she ran a marathon. Whole room was spinning around her and she tried to compose herself, to stay conscious. She felt him fumbling around with something, but was more focused on herself to notice what was going on. Her bum was burning and she was pretty certain she was bleeding. But all of it did not matter. She needed to stay conscious, to ignore the pain and…

Suddenly and with a violent thrust, he was in her. Amelia gasped at the sensation, but was given no time to figure out whether it felt good or not because already the next second he grabbed her hips and began furiously pounding into her, with her lying underneath him like a puppet. She felt his nails dig into her flesh as he continued in an insane rhythm without making a sound. Amelia felt like falling in an abyss, losing her mind and melting underneath him.

Just as suddenly he drew back and flipped her over. His chest swam into view and her glance travelled over his front.

A snide smile passed over his pale, clean shaven face as he entered her again and this time she loved it. She threw her head aback, moaning in delight, lifting her arms to wrap them around his shoulders, but he slapped them away.

"No touching," he reprimanded her.

She let her arms fall on the bed and stared in his dark eyes as he mercilessly continued pounding into her. As his one finger slid downwards however, she gurgled. He started massaging her expertly and her senses were an explosion. She loved every second, every movement of his, every explosion of delight which seemed to bring her senses toward the state of overload.

"Now you may come," he told her.

He was barely out of breath. Despite of his inveterate smoking he seemed to keep himself in excellent shape.

As though this was all she was unconsciously waiting for, she threw her head aback and allowed the energy which she had been blocking until then to wash over her. Christopher on the other hand kept on going for a while, while she lay there and tried to catch her breath. With one thrust which was so rough and deep the whole bed shook ominously, she felt him come.

Wordlessly he got to his feet and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Amelia was still lying where he left her, trying to consciously make the room stop spinning around her. She became aware that her every bone was aching as she listened to the sound of running water. He was in the shower.

Was this how sex would look like with him every time? She would need to get a personal doctor who would patch her up after each of the encounters with Christopher.

"You're not in a good shape," she heard his bass and looked up.

He was leaning stark naked against the bathroom doorframe.

"We need to do something about that," he commented, pointing at her.

She swallowed as he turned toward his wardrobe. His behind was perfectly shaped and his back muscles flexed dangerously as he reached inside the wardrobe.

"You will go to the gym," he continued.

She struggled to sit up and stared at him as he put on a simple black T-shirt. He smiled at the sight of her still lying naked and trembling on the bed.

"We need to get that small body of yours into shape," he whispered as he sat down on the bed beside her.

She just nodded.

"But for the first time, it was very pleasurable," he said with a smirk, running his hand over her naked front.

She sniffed and smiled.

"Come, you can't laze around all day," he said, getting up. "We have to discuss work."

Amelia swung her legs over the bed and got up.

"Go shower," she heard him say over his shoulder. "I'll be downstairs."

No kiss, no gentleness. Amelia did not expect that from him anyway. He was not that kind of a person. However as she passed by the mirror, she noticed she was wearing a goofy smile.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The work on the new Order building was progressing very fast and it seemed that it would be finished on time. Everyone in the Order was kept very busy by Christopher, who was giving them tasks regularly and spent most of his time in his house, sitting at his computer like a king spider, pulling the strings while the little spiders tirelessly worked. At some point even Count Frankie complained about him and remarked it was the 'King Andrew school' which turned him into a control freak and a workaholic who expected everyone else to be just as insane as he was.

Five days before the announced Order founding Christopher arranged a meeting at his place. The thirteen Order members packed their reports and got ready for a very long evening.

"What I don't bloody get," Knight Penelope was complaining in the car, "is why all this hurry, hurry? We could've easily extended this deadline and managed everything at a more human pace."

"You should tell him that," Amelia joked.

"I'm not suicidal," Penelope said and snorted. Then it dawned on her who exactly she was telling this to. "You're not going to tell him what I said just now, are you?"

"No," Amelia said. "What makes you think I would?"

"Well, now you're officially one of his right hands and we all know what that means," said Penelope suspiciously.

Amelia laughed.

"I'm pretty sure he knows what you think even if you haven't told him out loud," she said.

Penelope looked horrified at the prospect and for a while she seemed to contemplate what else might Christopher 'know'. Luckily however they soon arrived at their destination, which cut her musing short. Duke Frank was already there, he was standing close to Christopher and was speaking to him in a whisper. Amelia wondered what they were discussing. It must be something very important and serious, judging by Frank's expression. Christopher's expression was far less telling, but that was typical for him.

They sat down around the black coffee table and Amelia pulled out her reports, looking around. This was her first meeting with Christopher with the others present. She must not betray with anything that she was having an affair with him. But even if her brain could command her actions and what she was saying, her body reacted to him.

She watched him enter the living room in his typical, measured pace and glance over the assembled people. Nothing about his appearance and his behaviour could have ever given her a hint how sadistic and aggressive he actually was underneath all this. She has seen it and experienced it on her own skin.

And she loved every second of it.

A slight lift of eyebrow on his part made everyone wonder what was wrong, but Amelia noticed straight away that he was wearing a suit and a tie, whereas everyone else was not.

"Perhaps a revision of certain rules from the Statute is in order," he commented, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat down. "Article twenty, paragraph two: 'For official Order meetings all-black, formal attire is required. Every member will however wear a clothing accessory in the colour corresponding to his or her grade'."

He looked around the room and Amelia gulped. Well, it was not her fault because she was wearing what he told her to.

"For instance, as I am a sixth grade I chose to wear a blue tie," Christopher continued. "Since this is our first official meeting, let this pass as a remark."

Some exchanged glances and Amelia knew what they were thinking. Christopher was getting on everyone's nerves with his rules and his remarks.

"Who is making notes?" he asked, looking around the room.

It was obvious that no one thought about that either. Knight Penelope however lifted her hand in the air and quickly pulled out a notebook. Of course, Amelia thought. A meeting report needs to be written for every official meeting of the Order.

"Good," Christopher commented. "The minibar is there, help yourselves. Now, I have a couple of official announcements, after what we will turn to reports."

He crossed his legs and pulled out a piece of paper filled in his precise handwriting.

"Some might ask themselves why an official Order founding ritual is necessary," he said. "I decided to do so for several reasons – you might have acted as a branch of the Order in the absence of a Ruler, but I am convinced that an official Ritual dedicated to reanimating our egregore will be very helpful in our future Work. Secondly, I may have received my title during an official inauguration ceremony from His Excellence himself, but I wish to reconnect to the British Order. I was a part of the Order in New York for far too long. Thirdly, we need a Ritual to open our new Temple and this one is very fitting for the purpose."

He took a sip of his coffee while everyone waited for him to put the cup away. He did not seem to be in any hurry.

"You all received the Ritual script," he said, looking around the room. Everyone was nodding. "Are there any questions?" Everyone shook their heads.

Christopher sighed as he looked down on his paper. The atmosphere was strained to put it mildly and Christopher was not really helping.

"We will have four honoured guests attending," he continued. "Countess Annabelle, the Ruler of Irish Order. Duchess Jillian, Ruler of Belgian Order. King Olkku, Ruler of Finnish Order. Marquise Arja, Ruler of the Order of Iceland."

People exchanged surprised glances. He invited all those people here? That the Irish would be here was understandable. Most of them had Irish mentors and were very close to them. But the Finnish?

"Count Frank was to book rooms for them and wait for them at the airport, according to the flight schedules they sent me," Christopher continued. "How is that going, Count Frank?"

"Everything is in order and has been arranged, Your Highness," Frankie said, who was sitting with his huge legs wide apart so that Penelope and Amelia, who were sitting together with him on the sofa, were squashed on one side of it.

"Excellent. Now let us continue with reports."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Order members left Christopher's house smelling like cigarette smoke, because Christopher kept smoking like a chimney throughout the whole meeting, which lasted until 11pm. Amelia was exhausted. The man was so demanding and so attentive to details that it was hard to keep track of everything. But she hoped he was pleased with her work.

Pleased.

She was a little disappointed that she did not get the chance to be with him that evening, but it was pretty obvious from the beginning that there was absolutely no way anything could happen. She wondered when he would call on her again and hoped it was soon. In the meantime he kept sending her packages with clothes and accessories, as well as emails through which he was basically rearranging her life.

He wrote a training plan for her and sent her a membership card for a gym close to where she lived. He also sent her a nutritional plan she had to follow to the letter. She found it hard to do everything he asked of her but at the same time she was happy their relationship had obviously extended beyond the scope of his sleeping room, as it had been his intention in the beginning. Now it was obvious he was extending his control over all parts of her life.

Inside, she was blossoming. She found it very hard not to blab it out to someone, because she wanted to share her happiness. But she could not betray their secret.


	5. Chapter 4

AN: Slash in this chapter. Enjoy ;)

CassieG

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 4

One very windy Friday Amelia went to visit her parents and have lunch with them. It was family tradition to have lunch together every now and then because the family members lived scattered around United Kingdom. Amelia's parents lived in London, Amelia's older sister lived in Birmingham, whereas her younger sister lived in Glasgow. But every now and then the family would meet at their parents' house in London, eat together and talk.

These family meetings used to be a nuisance at the time when Amelia was going through her initiation process. It was hard for her to explain what was going on with her and besides, she could not share anything about the Order with her family. She was misunderstood, asked too many painful questions which she did not need at the time and in the end she decided to stop going to family meetings because they were not helping. After she was promoted and calmed down a bit, she called her mother again and went for a visit. She had to lie of course, but she had to give her parents a reason why she divorced her husband. She told them she fell in love with someone else, as simple as that.

To her older sister however, she told everything.

At first she was shocked. But she began to slowly understand. She and Amelia had always been very close and shared everything with each other. But when Amelia shared her painful secret with Ellie it seemed it would be the end of their relationship. Ellie just could not accept that her younger sister enjoyed to be controlled in that way and that she even liked being tied up, spanked and whatever else, which was how she imagined such a relationship worked. But Ellie googled and researched in order to be able to understand her sister better. She never fully accepted it, but Amelia knew she had her full support in this. Ellie saw how much it changed her, to finally follow her heart and be who she really was, and she knew it was good for Amelia. Whatever Ellie thought about it.

At the dinner table her mother tried to worm out of Amelia news about new boyfriends, but Amelia kept her mouth firmly shut. She covered her wrist which was still swollen with a large wooden bracelet whereas the bruises remained hidden underneath her black clothes. Ellie's glance however fell on her necklace. The wooden bracelet was not typical, either. And it was somehow unnecessary because it was barely visible underneath the long sleeves.

She was certain Amelia was seeing someone.

"Who is he?" she asked as they remained alone in the kitchen, putting plates into the dishwasher.

"What?" Amelia asked absently.

"You're seeing someone. Who is he?" Ellie whispered, leaning toward her younger sister.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ellie," Amelia said. "I'm not seeing anyone."

Ellie grabbed her wrist and pulled down the wooden bracelet, with Amelia gasping in pain. Ellie glanced down on her colourful wrist which was slowly healing, but has now assumed a brown and black shade.

Ellie's eyes narrowed.

"Mum will see it, are you insane?" Amelia hissed, pulling down the bracelet.

"She's still busy with the plates in the dining room," said Ellie with one hand on her hip. "Now come on, let's hear it."

"Let's finish this and go outside," Amelia suggested.

"Fine," Ellie said, shrugging. "I could do with a fag."

The two of them finished their work in the kitchen and announced they would be going out.

"Oh Amelia, dear," her mother said with an imploring look. "Have you started smoking again?"

"No, Mum," Amelia said. "I just want to keep Ellie company."

"One smoker is enough in the family," they heard her say. "Wish she would quit."

Ellie rolled her eyes as the two of them made their way into the garden.

"Spill the beans," Ellie commanded, pulling out a cigarette from her pack. "Who is he?"

Amelia sighed.

"He's… he was a client in my firm," she said. "It was just a business meeting. He wanted to change some things in his house and invited me over."

"Your first meeting with this bloke was at his place?" Ellie asked incredulously.

"No," Amelia said, rolling her eyes at her sister. "I already redecorated his house. He just wanted to change a couple of things."

"Ah, okay then. And?"

"And we had sex," Amelia said.

"First an employee in your firm, now a client," Ellie remarked. "Really, Amelia."

"I couldn't help myself," Amelia protested. "He was just… irresistible."

"How does he look like?"

"Six foot two and over two hundred pounds of muscle," Amelia said, smiling.

"Okay, that's your type, yeah." Ellie shrugged. "So you had sex with this bloke and he gave you a nasty bruise. And then he bought you that necklace."

She pointed at Amelia's throat.

"Am I that obvious?" Amelia muttered.

"I'm your sister, it's my business to know," Ellie said smartly. "Well? You're still sleeping with him."

"Yes."

Ellie sighed.

"I'm so happy for you," she whispered. "Seeing that wrist I'd like to punch him in the face for doing this to you, but I know you're different."

"Thank you for understanding," Amelia said with feeling.

"Do you love him?"

"I'm crazy about him," Amelia said, aware she was blushing.

Ellie smiled.

"I think this time it might be right," Amelia added.

"I hope so, for your sake," Ellie said. "When can I meet him?"

"No, you can't meet him," Amelia said straight away. "He… he needs this to stay between us. He doesn't want anyone to know… he's… you know."

"Well, I can understand that," Ellie remarked, giving Amelia's wrist a dirty look. "But perhaps you could point at him from a distance or show me a photo. I just want to know how he looks like."

"Perhaps," Amelia said.

They went inside for coffee. Amelia's phone kept emitting sounds all throughout lunch and she told her parents those were her employees from the firm notifying her of things. But actually it was the Order forum where things got totally crazy because everyone was exchanging information and coordinating their work according to the work of others'. Right now it was one Knight who was asking Amelia whether she could choose appropriate furniture for the salon in IKEA and send him the details so he could pick it up.

Right as she was finishing her coffee, her phone whistled again.

"Really, Amelia, don't they ever leave you in peace?" asked her father.

Amelia looked down on the phone. As soon as she saw the name of the sender, her stomach tightened.

'Be at my place in two hours'.

Okay, so she still had time. But he did not tell her what to wear. As she put away her phone, Ellie cast an important glance in her direction. She just assumed it was Amelia's secret lover.

"May I use your computer for just a second? It's urgent," Amelia asked her father.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Exactly two hours later she was parking her car in front of Christopher's house. Just as she was about to ring the doorbell, she saw a black note glued to the front door, saying: 'come inside'.

She turned the doorknob and went inside.

"In here," she heard his bass coming from the living room.

She made her way there and stopped in the doorway. He was sitting with a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and was surveying her.

"Come closer," he ordered.

Slowly, she did. She hoped he liked the carpet she ordered for him, but so far he has not said anything about it.

"Strip," he told her, crossing his legs and looking as though he was ready for a show.

Wordlessly she began taking off her clothes and he watched her silently. His glance travelled over her when she remained standing naked in the middle of his living room.

"Turn around."

His glance seemed to be burning a hole in her back.

"Good," he said. "Turn facing me again."

He inclined his head.

"Are you following your training and nutritional plan I sent you?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Have you been masturbating?"

"You told me not to."

He lips curled into a satisfied smile.

"Put this on and come to my study."

He threw a black garment at her and got to his feet, picking up his coffee. As she heard him ascend the stairs, she turned the garment over in her hands. It was one of those latex garments, but this one had holes in all the right places. She slipped into it as quickly as she could and followed him upstairs.

She found him sitting at his computer. As she came to stand beside him, awaiting further instructions, he turned in his chair and glanced over her.

"Good," he said. "Spread your legs."

He slid a finger inside her and she swallowed. He then pulled his finger out, sniffed it and leaned aback once again.

"Turn around, hands on your back."

She licked her lips and tried to steady her breathing as she felt him tie her hands.

"Turn toward me," he ordered next. "Kneel".

Her glance fell on his crotch which was only inches away as he leaned forward and placed something around her neck. It was a collar.

The collar was connected to a long, heavy chain, the other end of which he clipped to his desk.

"Here's a cushion for you," he said, throwing one on the floor. "I don't want you to catch a cold."

She settled down on the cushion.

"Now begin reading this to me." He threw a piece of paper on the floor.

Amelia leaned forward and began to read. After about one paragraph he quickly drew something from one of the drawers and swung with it.

"Slower," he hissed.

Amelia took a deep, steadying breath and began to read once again while he typed something every now and then. The man kept a whip in his desk drawer. But why was she surprised?

After she read through the first document, he told her to carry the paper in her teeth to a pile beside his desk and gave her another one to read out loud.

It continued for about one hour, until suddenly he stopped her and turned toward her.

"I'm getting a little tired of this," he told her. He tugged at the chain so hard she almost fell on her face. "Amuse me."

He undid his fly. Amelia was vaguely wondering whether he would allow her to please herself as well.

She crawled toward him and swallowed him. The whole time he kept the chain taut and pulled her head toward himself when he felt like it. Whether it was the chain clanking, his hand directing the movements of her head or his other hand which grabbed one of her breasts every now and then, she had no idea but she was getting faint with arousal.

As he pulled her head forcibly toward himself, she pulled her head back, gasping. The whip flashed out of nowhere.

"You're not doing it well enough," he told her sternly. "Make more effort."

She was trying hard to regain balance with her hands tied behind her back and the sadistic maniac tugging at the chain, but she hoped she was doing a good job. After she felt him spill himself in her mouth, she automatically swallowed. He always requested of her to swallow and she did not even wait for instructions regarding this anymore.

"Good," he said, zipping his pants. "Spread your legs."

In the beginning she wondered what the meaning of this was, but now she knew very well what he was doing. He was testing how aroused she was. By now she was positively dripping over the floor.

"Let us continue," he said, turning to his computer.

How mean can one be?

Again she read out loud to him, he typed something every now and then and then he requested of her to put the paper on the pile.

By now she knew very well what he was doing. He was reconstructing the Order archive from mails and scattered pieces of information he got from Washington. It would have been a painstaking process without her help.

At about 8pm his phone rang and he answered.

"Hi, Arja," she heard him say. "Of course I'm busy." He tugged at the chain and Amelia was once again so caught by surprise with this that she almost fell. She turned her head toward his crotch, but he seemed to have a different agenda this time as he leaned aside and slid a finger inside her. Amelia knew she had to keep quiet, but it was infernally hard.

"Naturally," he said, sliding his fingers in and out of Amelia, who bit her lip in an effort not to moan. "I'll arrange it. I'm looking forward to seeing you again as well."

He pulled his fingers out and grabbed Amelia's right breast, massaging it.

"Well, have a safe flight and I'll see you soon".

He released the chain and Amelia sank to her knees.

"Let us continue," he told Amelia as he put away his phone.

Amelia breathed in deeply, crawled back to her cushion and started to read again. After about half an hour, he leaned aback, crushing down his cigarette.

"On your feet," he told her.

As he turned toward her in his office chair, his free hand slid down toward his crotch. His glance travelled over her as he massaged himself.

"Well I suppose you behaved," he said at length. "You deserve a bit of reward."

He undid his fly again.

"Come here," he told her. She hurried to do as she was told. "Please yourself."

Amelia sat on him and gasped in delight as she felt him fill her. She felt completely safe even though her hands were still tied behind her back because as soon as she sat on him he placed his one hand on her back for her not to fall. Amelia closed her eyes, riding him and allowing herself to enjoy every second, every movement. His glance was fixed on her as she moved up and down and to her relief, he made no comment on her loud moaning and panting. Once he whipped her because she was being too loud.

He made no move to touch her; he just sat there and watched with utmost seriousness. After he felt her tighten around him and gasp in delight, he inclined his head and ran his hands down her front.

"Get up," the order came.

She was feeling dizzy and her legs were trembling badly, but she hurried to do as he told her.

"Lean over the table."

He tightened the chain and she felt him fumbling from behind her but she knew she was not supposed to look what he was doing. The man's self-control was remarkable. She just spent about ten minutes jumping on him and he did not come. He exercised the same control over himself which he exercised over her.

As he forcibly entered her, she let out a stifled scream. Christopher loved anal sex but the problem was he did it each time without her being ready for it or expecting it. Amelia knew that the friction was painful to him as well, but supposed that he was actually doing it because he liked to hear her scream.

A few thrusts later he grabbed her for her hair and pulled her head toward himself.

"When I say 'now' you will kneel in front of me," he panted, ravaging her from behind. She was sure she was bleeding because the only lubricant he used was his own saliva and she felt her skin was ripping apart.

It did not take long, however, which was good because Amelia was barely managing, the pain was just too much. But there was something else. Feeling of paralysing fear flooded her for some reason and she felt like leaping out of her own skin. He came all over her face and she knelt shaking with her whole body in front of him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

She nodded, glad that he could not see she let out a tear.

"Let me see."

He examined her from behind.

"Wait here."

She remained kneeling and waiting for him to return. Her eyelashes have glued together but she was not paying attention. She was still trying to compose herself.

He returned and placed something wet and soothingly cold on her face. He gently wiped it clean and she opened her eyes. His broad-shouldered figure swam into view and she blinked.

"Turn around."

He smeared something over her anus, which was burning.

"Thank you," she breathed.

His thin lips smiled. Just as he was to get up, a tear rolled down her cheek and she bit her lip. Of course he noticed.

"Are you crying?" he asked, once again crouching next to her. As though her body was just waiting for him to ask, she burst into tears.

He placed a hand on her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"I don't know," she managed to say.

"Was this too much for you?"

She swallowed her tears. Slowly, she nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Do you want me to end this?"

She looked up quickly.

"No," she breathed.

He inclined his head and stared at her. For a second all she could see were his dark eyes. At length he sighed.

"Do you want to go now?" he asked.

"No," she whispered, bowing her head.

He passed with his hand one last time over her cheek and straightened up.

"Lie down," he told her.

She curled down next to his chair and he patted her on the head. Somehow she found comfort in this and closed her eyes, trying to stop trembling. She heard him light a cigarette and resume his typing. Why did she react this way? Why did she get so scared? He did worse things with her and she never reacted this way.

She did not want to go. Not now, not ever. All she wanted was to lie next to his chair, close to him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As she opened her eyes, a grey wall swam into view. She tried to recall what happened. And as she did, she almost burst into tears again.

Why was she acting like an idiot? She wanted this. She read everything he wrote about possible injuries and how he would take care of her.

After she burst into tears, she had been lying next to him for a while, enjoying his closeness and getting sleepier while listening to the steady rhythm of his typing. She looked up however as he rose and disappeared in the corridor, presumably to go to the bathroom.

"Can I help?" she asked as he returned.

"Yes," he said. "Are you feeling better now?"

She nodded.

He leaned forward, untied her hands, removed her collar and told her to go downstairs and get dressed.

"Drink a glass of wine and come back," he added.

She did exactly as he told her, even though she didn't feel like drinking wine. However the alcohol seemed to do wonders for her. She felt welcome warmth spreading through her body as she put down the empty glass and hurried upstairs.

However if she thought he was done with the collar, she was wrong. He clipped it again around her neck and connected the other end to his desk.

Amelia read and he typed until 4 am. At some point however he carried her to the bed in the room opposite his sleeping room, where she had slept until now.

She sat up as he entered the room.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she said at once.

He crossed the room and sat down beside her on the bed.

"It's okay," he said, glancing over her. "These things happen. You're exploring fear, pain and delight at the same time and emotional reactions are highly probable. I know I'm not exactly gentle with you."

He smiled and placed his palm on her cheek. Amelia smiled and rubbed her face against his hand.

"And you really haven't done this before?" she asked.

"No".

"You're very good at it."

"I'm good at everything."

She grinned. Arrogant bastard she absolutely worshipped.

"I'm enjoying our relationship," he said. "And I know you not only enjoy it, but need it. It will help you on your path of self-deification."

This was his intuition talking.

"Do you want me to go easier on you?" he asked. "I fixed you up pretty bad yesterday."

"No," she breathed. "I can do this."

"You also need to have complete trust in me," he said, still not breaking the eye contact.

"I do."

"Up to the point of putting your life in my hands."

She swallowed as she felt a pang of fear. Yes, he wrote about that. He inclined his head and brought his head closer to hers.

"Are you so afraid of me?" he asked.

"I… well, sometimes," she admitted.

"Why? You know I would never intentionally kill you or harm you severely in any way."

The way he said it made all her hairs stand on end.

"Have you?" she asked in a whisper.

"Have I what?" he asked seriously.

"Killed someone."

"Of course I have."

She swallowed something bitter and bowed her glance, but he placed a finger under her chin.

"Does this change anything?" he demanded to know.

"How… how did it happen?"

"I would rather not talk about it but let's just say it was Order business."

She nodded, biting her lips.

"There's…" she started, but then trailed away. "Swear you won't be angry with me."

"I swear," he said seriously. "Although I might want to spank you afterwards. Tell me."

Both of them smiled.

"There's this… darkness in your eyes sometimes," she said quietly.

"We're all black magic practitioners," he said, shrugging. "It's in your eyes as well."

"Yes, but with you it's… like, much deeper. Your eyes get this insane glint and I can't control my fear, it just happens. It's something about your voice as well, about your touch and your aura. You literally radiate something that scares me senseless."

She lifted her glance and waited for a reaction. He seemed to be thinking about it.

"It is a reflection of the initiation process I've been through," he said. "I'm only surprised you can feel it."

"I can," she whispered. "And it just washes over me and I can't control my reaction. It's not that I think you will kill me or something like that. It's sort of… primal."

His eyes narrowed as he looked away from her but the following moment he ran his fingers through her brown hair.

"And your task is to conquer this fear," he said seriously. "Do you understand that now?"

She nodded.

"But I need to have your complete trust," he continued. "You will do a Ritual for this and I will help you with the details."

She smiled broadly.


	6. Chapter 5

AN: More slash. There won't be slash in every chapter, it just happened to be in the first couple of them.

CassieG

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 5

During the following few days the Order members were busier than ever. Amelia had to take sick leave in her firm in order to be able to complete all the tasks Christopher was giving her. She was far too busy to think about what happened, but every now and then her thoughts would go back to that night. No man has ever driven her that insane as Christopher did. She wanted him – all the time. She fantasised about his naked chest, about his hands touching her, about him in her. In fact, all this work was the only thing which was preventing her from being horny all the time.

Preparations for the founding Ritual were in full swing and Amelia was driving back and forth between her place, Christopher's place and the new Order Headquarters, using her every spare second to revise the Ritual script which she needed to know by heart. But there were these moments before she would fall asleep when she would think about the feeling of paralysing fear she experienced and the nonchalant way in which he admitted he killed someone.

It was one of the most shunned topics in the Order. But the members knew very well that sometimes the Order had to resort to such means while handling a specific situation. There were even certain people within each Order who dealt with it. People who had the stomach for it. But as it was the case in every Order branch, it was a taboo topic. Everyone knew it was happening and even who was doing it, but they did not talk about it.

Was Christopher acting as one of those 'henchmen' while he was in New York?

He said he would rather not talk about it. Amelia did not think it had something to do with guilty conscience – Christopher did not seem to be that type of a person. But it made her wonder why he would not talk about it. Admittedly it might be she who would have a problem listening about it and perhaps this was why he declined to tell her about it.

The morning before the actual Ritual Amelia woke up very early. She woke up at seven and concluded she was too nervous to sleep, which was why she got up. She first had some coffee, smeared the paste Christopher gave her over her intimate parts – which still have not healed – and then started checking on her tasks. The Headquarters were all set as far as she was concerned. Her task had been to take care of the furniture, curtains and lighting, but also to procure all of the items needed for their Ritual. Of course she did not pick all of those by herself, but still it involved constant driving back and forth, calling people and arranging everything.

By five pm she was ready. Christopher sent her instructions on what to wear that morning as per usual and this made her dressing much less complicated. Only now she realised how much she missed this in her life. It used to drive her insane to open her wardrobe and then try to decide what to wear. This way it was already decided and all she had to do is put it on. Christopher also bought her a beautiful red silk scarf, which, as he told her, she should wear as the symbol of her grade.

Life seemed to be much less complicated with Christopher in it because he brought all the decisions and steered her in the direction she needed to go with her initiation.

She wondered vaguely why he was not prepared to make their relationship public. There was no rule which prohibited dating among Order members, even marriage. But perhaps he got off on the secrecy, she thought.

She was picked up by Penelope and the two sisters chatted animatedly in the car, discussing the guests who would be present at the Ritual that evening and also other Order members. Gossip spread like wildfire within the Order and it was a well-known fact that it was quicker than phone calls or email communication, thus defying the laws of physics.

"Your style has gotten a bit more serious," Penelope remarked as she glanced over the elegant black dress Amelia was wearing.

"I just saw it in the shop window and had to buy it," Amelia lied.

"Well, every change is a good change," Penelope remarked. "I love the scarf, too. Where did you get it?"

Amelia had no idea where Christopher bought the scarf.

"Oh, it was a gift from my sister Ellie," she lied. "I have no idea where she bought it."

"Classy," said Penelope and smirked.

And 'classy' was just the word to describe Christopher's style. He was too lazy and hated shopping too much to ever go on his own. Instead he ordered his clothes online. For him it was much less of a hassle and all it took were a few clicks with the mouse. He was even ready to risk the clothes not fitting him, as long as he did not have to go out shopping on his own.

As Amelia got out of the car, warm evening air filled her lungs. There was something magical in the air, she thought. The enlarged parking lot was already half-full and Amelia recognised Christopher's black Audi. So he was already here.

Sadistic maniac she was head over heels in love with.

While the others were rushing to and fro, either carrying things upstairs into the temple or talking on the phone, Amelia climbed the stairs to the salon.

She designed it in black and red. The curtains were red with large black geometrical pattern, the tables were made of black glass and were of various sizes whereas the sofas and armchairs she chose were made of black eco-leather. She also added a couple of plants here and there as well as large, framed posters which adorned the wall opposite the window. It was a custom in the Order for the Ruler and his advisors - or right hands - to sit together, which was why Amelia had a large, oval coffee table placed in one of the corners of the salon, which was big enough for the four of them and guests who would of course also be sitting with them.

Duke Gregory was already sitting there, going through some paperwork with a pen in his teeth, whereas Christopher sat beside him, engrossed in something on his tablet.

"Hi," Amelia said as she approached the table.

Gregory embraced her from his sitting position whereas Christopher lifted his glance only for a second before extending his right hand toward her. Amelia kissed it and sat down beside him.

The Order insisted on strict hierarchy. However they were a small family for so long that it came as a shock to some to see hierarchical rules in application. The most obvious ones were: formal greetings and sitting arrangements. Amelia could not sit with Penelope because Penelope was a Knight. Amelia had to sit with Christopher, Gregory and Frank. But a part of Amelia was enjoying this new, formal way of interaction within the Order because there was a rule for everything and one knew precisely how to handle what.

Amelia checked her phone to see whether there were any new messages and leaned back once she concluded there were none, feeling a little strange for not participating in all the preparations. But rules stated clearly that it was Knights' work to prepare the temple and everything else, whereas she should start getting ready mentally and magically for the Ritual.

Prince Christopher made the salon a smoking zone by default. However since he insisted on excellent ventilation system throughout the whole building, it was not bothering Amelia. He was currently going through a long text on his tablet and seemed completely immersed in reading while his scotch was getting warmer. Amelia glanced over his chest and the shining, marine blue tie and swallowed. It was hard sitting so close to him. The man did not normally allow her to embrace him or caress him but nonetheless her body remembered the intimacy it shared with the body sitting next to it and reacted.

"Why are you so fidgety, Duchess Amelia?" he asked without lifting his glance.

"I… it feels strange not doing anything, Your Highness," she said.

She wondered about possible punishment she would get privately for this.

"Get yourself a glass of red wine," he said, still reading through the text.

She got to her feet instantly and Gregory gave her a strange look. Feeling her cheeks beginning to burn, she got behind the bar, grateful for the hideout. She was so used to following Christopher's orders that it must have looked really strange. She wondered whether he would reprimand her for obeying straight away, but he did not seem to mind. Because when she came back with the wine he was still reading.

Then suddenly he sighed and put away his tablet, downing the content of his glass in one gulp.

The strange silence was broken by a loud noise and Amelia jumped. Christopher cast an amused look at her, pulling out the ringing IPhone from his pocket.

"You're still not drinking that wine," he said and pointed at her glass.

Gregory looked from one to the other with an obvious question mark on his forehead but Amelia was blossoming from inside and not minding him. It was obvious Christopher did not mind her behaviour. What was more, he found it amusing and kept giving her orders, expecting her to obey.

As he answered the call and began talking, both Gregory and Amelia felt compelled to stare at him. The man was speaking fluent French with someone on the other side.

When did he learn to speak French?

As he hung up he did not enlighten them as to who he just spoke to, but lit up another cigarette and fixed his glance at something in the distance. Amelia closed her eyes and tried to meditate. She just had to relax a bit and it seemed she was not going to be given any work in the next half an hour.

Within twenty minutes the temple was set and the Knights were sitting in the salon. All they were waiting for was the arrival of the guests. Amelia felt more relaxed after she drank the wine and meditated. She followed the discussion between Christopher and Frank about Order politics, whereas Gregory was silent as per usual. It was not that he was shy or had a speaking problem – it was just that he was very introverted and only spoke when he had something very important to say or when someone asked him something.

Suddenly they heard voices downstairs and Christopher slowly got to his feet, followed by everyone else. The guests have arrived.

One of the Knights emerged at the top of the stairs and then stood aside as a tall, thin woman in her late thirties entered the salon and went directly toward Christopher. It was obvious from the grins and the excited talking on her part that the two were old friends.

"You look bigger each time I see you," she commented, winking at him.

Amelia felt a sting of jealousy as she watched them and wondered at the feeling.

"And you look more beautiful, Marquise Arja," he complimented her.

"The old-school charmer," she laughed, punching him on the shoulder. "Hello," she said to Amelia, who she noticed only now. "You must be Duchess Amelia."

A man with a large beer belly was already greeting Duke Frank and Count Gregory as a woman in her late fifties climbed to the top of the stairs and grinned at everyone in turn. She knew everyone of course, since the remaining members of the British Order kept travelling to Ireland and vice versa.

"Sit down, drink something, relax for a while before we start with the Ritual," Christopher said, sitting down himself.

Amelia felt very strange sitting with all these Rulers and decided to use the time to revise the Ritual mentally. She had no idea how to contribute to the discussions and besides was not sure whether she was even allowed to.

"Scotch, what do you mean, scotch?" she heard the man with the beer belly saying. She learned this was the Finnish King who had a very striking personality. "Don't you have beer in England?"

Amelia both wished and dreaded the moment when they would go into the Temple. On one hand she was just sitting there with all these people she did not know and wanted to get away. On the other hand going inside meant she would get to test her memory because she was one of the officers in the Ritual and there was a lot of text she had to learn by heart.

The Ritual was scheduled for a certain hour, but it was obvious Christopher was not yet ready. He was, after all, going to lead the whole Ritual. Thus the Knights kept glancing in Christopher's direction every now and then, waiting for him to give them a signal. When he finally got to his feet and lifted a hand in the air, everyone got to their feet as well and began entering the temple.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was not Christopher's first time sitting in the North, but it was his first time sitting on the throne, right underneath the Black Sun.

Once he might have lost himself in the feeling, but right now it was just one of his duties. There was nothing grand and nothing exhilarating about it. It was just hard work, a lot of responsibilities and a lot of decision bringing. He was alone at the top and at times the feeling of pressure washed over him, which he however quickly ignored and put aside.

The Statute of the Order clearly stated that any member chosen by the Council and the Imperator for the throne of the ruler, above the grade of the Count, was eligible for the position. But this made it very difficult for people to handle the pressure. How could for instance a Count handle so many responsibilities? He was not yet a master of himself. How could he lead the Order? Christopher knew this because he had been gathering information about it. He listened to their experiences and felt their struggle. It did not mean that it would be easier for him, but he had been to that dark, hollow place. He destroyed and rebuilt himself from the ashes. He had been to hell and back. And now life on earth, here and in this body, felt very relative.

Some might have been faint with anxiety and nervousness, but for Christopher it was just another Ritual. He knew what he had to do. He had to open himself up to the energies and let them flow freely through the temple. He had to be a channel, with those at the bottom of the hierarchy receiving what he was channelling. While the others were busy around the altar in the middle, Christopher sat with his eyes closed, focusing on the portal behind him, sending the energies spilling like dark waves over the assembled people.

The four guests he invited were also sitting in the North, but Christopher became aware of this energy-wise only after the invocation was done and spread his consciousness.

Frank, Gregory and Amelia were doing very well. Even if they got a little lax with the rules and the etiquette, they seemed to be on top of their game when it came to magical Work. The energy from the portal went like an arrow in their direction. They mentally gave it focus and then sent it spiralling through the temple like black, shimmering gas.

Christopher picked up his black candle and slowly made his way to the centre. Others, who had been waiting for his cue, followed his example whereas the guests remained seated. Christopher leaned toward the altar in the centre, placing his candle on it. This was a symbolic gesture, which would however get translated in the language of energy. They were all joining in one Order, one community, one group and were reanimating as well as creating a new egregore.

As they all joined hands, Christopher sent his own energy coursing through the circle and felt the others doing the same, as much as they could. His hands were burning and a familiar wave of heat spread through his being as he put as much energy as he was able to into the circle. It spread like black fire through the thirteen people he was holding hands with. Someone gasped; someone moaned in delight; and some were just standing trembling, drinking it in and trying to reciprocate.

He whispered the first sentence, which was continued by the Knight who was standing beside him and so it went around the circle. As Christopher started the second sentence, his voice has gotten a little louder but also more hissy. In his mind's eye it was like a fireball which was carried around the circle and was turning faster and faster, leaving a fiery trail behind it. By the end of the text, they were all shouting which was a very good sign.

He released the hands he was holding and looked around himself. His own hands were dripping with sweat.

"It has been done," he said quietly, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. "Meditation."

He turned around and returned to his place, with everyone else doing the same.

In terms of energy, the Ritual has been very successful. They did what they came here to do: open the temple for its first use and also create a connection to each other, which had Christopher as its root. In the Order, power came from the North and then extended to everyone else. But in this aspect his role was obvious. He was the one sitting right underneath the Black Sun and the one from whom everything came. He was the connection between that abstract, limitless power and Knights of the Black Sun.

The last to leave meditation was Countess Annabelle, who seemed to have enjoyed the Ritual a lot and had a lot to do in her meditation, but everyone waited patiently until she too opened her eyes. Once she did, she looked at Christopher, nodding.

As everyone was now done with the meditation, the Ritual was complete. Christopher got to his feet and descended the three stairs leading down to the floor, followed by the guests. Once they were gone, the door was quietly shut behind them. The Knights would now take care of the candles and the music, open a window to let a bit of air into the hall and so on. Christopher however sat down at his place in the salon and lit a cigarette.

"That was absolutely beautiful, Prince Christopher," Countess Annabelle said with feeling. "It was so…"

She was searching for the right word.

"Precise," Marquise Arja interjected, smiling softly.

"Thank you," Christopher said with dignity.

For a while they remained sitting in silence, aware that every now and then someone would leave the temple hall and then either go back or sit down in the salon. Christopher had a small room converted into a storage room for ritual supplies, with the door leading inside hidden underneath one of the shiny black curtains in the temple. On the long run and when they would be carrying props, it was far handier to have a room right there where they could put things away and not have to carry them across the hallway. This request caused uproar among the hired workers, which Duke Frank managed dexterously. In the end they got their storage room exactly where Christopher said it should be.

ooooooooooooooooooo

An hour later, most of the guests announced they would be leaving, since some of them had a very long flight that day. There was an official Order meeting scheduled for the day after, which the guests could attend. Christopher also planned on ordering food after the meeting.

Christopher was certain he could not go to bed straight away. He got his energy levels high so he would be able to do the Ritual appropriately, and now even though this energy was gone, the power he just channelled was still coursing through his body. He needed to do something and he knew exactly what.

With a cigarette between his fingers he leaned aback and began typing. Amelia pulled out her phone with a furrowed brow, obviously asking herself who was texting her at this hour and an expression of glee appeared on her face, but only for a second. Christopher was still holding his phone and typing with a serious expression, whereas she now understood and was ready to do as he told her.

She got to her feet, announced she was knackered and wished everyone good night.

"You did a very good job today," Christopher told Frank and Gregory after she was gone.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Frank said with a smile. "May I ask who wrote the Ritual?"

"I did," Christopher said. "With time I will write all Rituals which our Order will need, such as the solstice Ritual, New Year Ritual, Initiation Ritual etc. I want us to have our own versions of them."

"Fantastic," Frank said excitedly.

His respect toward Christopher grew exponentially after today's Ritual. He was still not sure what was it that he just experienced because he was dead tired but he would think about it.

"I'm going home," Christopher announced, rising. The two looked up.

"Count Frankie will…" Frank began, but Christopher waved a hand and pulled back his suit jacket.

Duke Frank's eyes zeroed on the gun holster Christopher was wearing.

"I don't need to be escorted around all the time," Christopher told him. "I'm pretty sure I can manage, Duke Frank."

"Very well," Frank said, getting to his feet. "Thank you for the today's Ritual, it left a deep impression on me."

"I would like to hear all about it tomorrow," Christopher said.

Frank grinned and kissed his hand.

Five minutes later Christopher left the Order building, yawning widely. The car park was now half-full as most people already left, but some remained behind to chat and drink.

"Come," Christopher said to a pillar as he passed it by.

He pressed the remote in his pocket and opened the car door. Just as he let himself fall on the driver's seat a shadow zoomed into his car and quickly closed the door behind it.

Christopher started the motor without looking at his passenger. The powerful headlights effortlessly illuminated the dark road ahead of them and for a while they drove in silence.

"You can lower the hood now," he said with a small smile, his glance still directed at the lonely road in front of him.

Amelia did as he told her, grinning.

"That was very good," he told her, still not looking at her. "Perhaps I should add you to the security team."

Amelia chuckled.

"Thank you," she said.

She did not ask where they were going, but the truth was that Christopher did not know either. All he knew was that he wanted more scotch and he wanted to have sex.

His brain quickly analysed the situation and went through the available options, although on the outside it seemed he knew exactly where he was going. Outdoors? Christopher did not like nature. He liked concrete, central heating and electrical appliances. On the other hand…

Amelia almost fell as he suddenly turned right.

"Why haven't you fastened your seatbelt?" he asked dryly. He was now driving down a narrow road leading through a forest.

Amelia hastened to do as he said and then stared at the dark shapes of trees they were zooming past, probably wondering where he was taking her. He lit a cigarette as he slowed down, keeping his expression unreadable. His brain was once again going through all the options. He wanted to take her to some dark forest, but it would take time to reach one since they just entered a suburb. How about…? His glance fixed on a plate ahead of him and he once again abruptly turned the steering wheel, speeding off in that direction.

He had enough alcohol in his blood for the police to take his driving licence, but he did not consider this to be a problem. He had connections in the police. One call and it would be arranged. However he hoped it would not come to that. He would need to use his intuition when planning the way back. He did not like doing this but he wanted to have sex in the dark somewhere. And Christopher always got what he wanted.

He parked on the side of the road and turned off the engine.

She tried to hide her nervousness as she quickly took in her dark surroundings and he smiled. She had no idea what was going to happen. Truthfully Christopher had no idea either but of course he was not going to show it.

He was going to improvise, as always.

"Stay here," he told her, leaving the car.

He opened the trunk and began rummaging in it for something useful. A blanket, good. He did not have any chains, which was unfortunate. He liked those. However he had a long rope. He grinned as he pulled it out. What else? His tie will serve as a blindfold. And his super strong flashlight was here. Good, he was ready. He slammed the trunk door close and opened the passenger's door.

"Out," he commanded.

She scampered out and looked around herself. He knew that her surrounding was scaring her, what he liked. Her head swung around as a night bird screeched somewhere about their heads.

"Scared?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed audibly and he smiled to himself as he placed the rope around her neck. He made a quick knot around her neck, making the noose loose enough not to choke her but not loose enough so she could free herself from it.

As he tied his tie over her eyes, her breathing quickened and he felt a surge of excitement. He could smell her fear and her arousal. He fed on them. They made him feel alive and gave him a sense of focus and control. After experiencing this feeling for the first time he could never go back to having normal, ordinary sex. That would be like drinking coffee and afterwards going to the loo. A normal, mechanical thing to do.

"Let's go," he told her, locking his car.

She followed him gingerly since now she could not see where she was going, and he directed her by pulling the rope. Now that she could not see his expression, he could allow himself to look around more attentively. He had a vague idea where they were going but it would be very unfortunate if they ran across someone with hostile intentions. It was good he was armed. In Christopher's opinion it was just one of the precautions he liked to take. He did not like any surprises and if something happened he would most certainly like to be able to defend himself.

At such a slow pace it took them a while to reach a small clearing close to the local church, where there were a few wooden benches but luckily no light. Carefully he directed her toward a bench and helped her to sit on the blanket he brought with him. She sat breathing shallowly as he untied the rope and began tying her hands to the bench. Once he was finished, he distanced himself away, lit up a cigarette and shone with his flashlight around the clearing. They seemed to be alone, good.

He shone the flashlight at her and smiled. She was waiting for him.

Every time there was this deep feeling of thrill at the pit of his stomach when he would 'get her ready' and then move away. The strange night sounds were scaring her, but not seeing anything was probably the worst. She imagined all sorts of things and twitched at every sound and movement in the bushes. At the same time she desired him. Her legs were slightly open, what told Christopher enough.

He massaged his crotch as he watched her twitch again and drank in her fear and anticipation. Perhaps she was ready for another lesson.

He finished his cigarette and threw it down on the ground. Carefully he approached her, not shining his flashlight at her, because she could see light if not anything else. He came from behind her and breathed into her ear. She jumped and he resisted the urge to laugh.

He felt the whole world of possibilities open up to him and breathed in deeply. It was all an unwritten page in his life, full of exciting possibilities and it was all up to him. He could do with it whatever he wanted. The sense of control over the outcome and the power which flooded him were making him slightly dizzy. He could do whatever he wanted with her.

Slightly disappointed he did not bring his pocket knife with him he decided on a different approach. He grabbed her for her hair and pulled her head backwards, running his finger over her throat. Her breathing quickened and she tried to hide her panic. She gasped however as his hands began to massage her breasts. He enjoyed their warmth and their firm shape, but what made him more aroused was when she flinched in pain as he pinched one of her nipples.

He thrust a finger in her mouth and she began sucking on it. He closed his eyes, massaging himself as she sucked eagerly at his finger as though it was his cock. She was so eager, so horny.

So delicate and so fragile.

Perhaps just a little stimulation, he thought. His trousers were getting a bit too tight for his straining erection. He climbed on the bench, undid his fly and pushed his cock deep inside her mouth, not really caring whether it was comfortable for her or not. He just wanted that warmth around it and her tongue on it. He was careful not to show how much he was enjoying it, though, because that would have been contra productive.

Saliva was dripping off her chin and he passed with his finger over her chin as he was pumping into her mouth, bringing the finger to his own mouth and licking her saliva. All that drool… just because of him. He took a deep, steadying breath. He needed to stop because this was leading in a very bad direction.

He released her and jumped down from the bench, walking away. She took a deep breath and moved her head tentatively forward, as though she was looking for his crotch and hoping it would be there. He smiled, zipping his pants.

What should he do next, he thought with excitement?

His senses were as sharp as a razor. He felt his surrounding, felt every movement behind the bushes, the night life going about its business and the sharp, night air filling his lungs. The thought of whipping her crossed his mind. She emitted such wonderful sounds when he whipped her. There was this sound at the back of the throat she emitted, as though she did not dare to be too loud in case this displeased him. Even when she was in pain, she was obedient. Christopher spent a couple of seconds trying to visualise her making that wonderful sound in her throat and the feeling which consumed him as he swung with the whip.

He could not describe it. It was intoxicating. He liked the feeling of absolute control this offered him and this excited him more than any sight of perfect breasts or a beautiful woman spreading her legs for him. It seemed that in those rare moments some weird hormone was released which was pumping so hard through his body he was in the state of acute chemical imbalance. He liked when they screamed – and the more they fought against him, the more intoxicated he was getting. Amelia however did not struggle much. She surrendered more and more to him and did not try to get away.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the mental image and decided on a different approach.

Turning around, he stepped into the forest and was careful to be as loud as possible to make her hear he was walking away. Still she sat silent, holding her breath.

Such a wonderful creature.

Then, as quietly as possible, he made his way to the other side of the clearing and began creeping in on her. He stepped on a couple of dry twigs which cracked underneath his weight and her head swung around. His name was on her lips but she did not speak it. She knew she was forbidden to speak during sex and although they were not having sex right now, it was all a part of it.

"What have we here?" Christopher wheezed in what he hoped would be perceived as an old man's voice.

Amelia's head swung around toward the direction from which the voice was coming and froze.

"So beautiful," wheezed Christopher. He faked a cough. "So young. Who left you here, pretty?

He placed a hand on her thigh.

It was then she screamed his name atop of her lungs but Christopher clapped a hand on her mouth, trying to keep distance. He imagined she could recognise him by the smell. Perhaps not by his aftershave but certainly by his perfume. He liked to dab it all over himself.

Now she was desperately trying to get away and was tugging at her bonds, but Christopher tied her up to well. She could not move her hands an inch.

He forcibly spread her legs and slid two fingers inside her, with his one hand on her mouth.

This was delicious, he thought as he was sliding his fingers in and out of her. Fear was rolling off her in vibrant, powerful waves and he drank it all in. She was not faking it nor was it temporary – she was honestly afraid for her life.

The way she tried to keep him away from her intimate parts was making him dizzy with excitement. The normally welcoming and wet hole was now clenched and denying access. He resisted the urge to just start fucking her straight away and try that tightness, because he knew that would ruin the whole show.

As he grabbed her for her breast, she squealed, trying to move away from him. She turned into a beautiful creature afraid for its life and it was something he wanted to frame and put on the wall of his study. She was so delicious, so fragile, so breath-taking in this edition that he did not want it to end.

He made a move as to slide his fingers into her again, but she crossed her legs and kept them firmly crossed. He narrowed his eyes. Well, he wrote that training plan for her. Of course she was getting stronger.

"Pretty little thing," he wheezed again. "Show me your rosebud."

She began frantically shaking her head, still trying to call his name every now and then, but Christopher's hand was clapped firmly over her mouth.

He could not resist it. Forcefully he pushed her legs apart and thrust his fingers in her. She panted, squealed and squirmed and the steady flow of juice stopped gradually since it regarded this as a forced entry.

He suddenly leaned forward and heard her sniff. Tentatively, she whispered his name.

"What did we say?" he said in his normal voice. "Trust?"

She loosened up and he took the opportunity to thrust his pulsing member as deep as he could. She gasped, both of surprise and of the friction. He winced as he noticed himself this hadn't been the best of ideas. Ah well. It would get better, knowing her.

"You bloody…" she whispered angrily, but whatever she wanted to say got lost in a loud moan.

He placed his head close enough to her in order for her senses to get flooded with his scent and she surrendered completely to him as he lifted her legs in order to gain better access. Perhaps he tortured her long enough, he thought. He placed two fingers on her clit and began massaging it. She gurgled and threw her head aback, shaking with her whole body. It was just a pity he could not see her tied up and sitting so helpless under him. He got off on such images and having sex with only a flashlight illuminating the clearing was not as stimulating.

He should also wait for her to come, he always did. Otherwise, according to his opinion, it would portray him in a bad light, as a man who had little self-control and came within one minute. Women could do that, but Christopher could not allow that to himself.

Her bum began to move upward with each thrust, welcoming him and her hips were moving around as though she was trying to suck him all in.

But for Christopher sex was a mechanical act. It was the game which led to it that interested him the most. The whole context and not just the in and out activity, even though that was pleasurable as well. But not as nearly as pleasurable as having the whole package. Her hips began to wildly buck up and she tightened so hard around him when she came that all it took was about ten seconds for him to spill in the welcoming, hot hole.

She swallowed the excess of her own saliva and took a deep breath while Christopher readjusted his trousers. Wordlessly he walked around her and began to untie her. She looked around herself after he also untied the tie which served as a blindfold.

Christopher sat down beside her and pulled out his cigarette pack. His head felt empty and he felt very relaxed.

And content.

Amelia on the other hand bowed her head and readjusted her dress as he smoked in silence. He heard her sniff but did not react. He was still relishing that feeling of blissful release and thinking about nothing in particular. He enjoyed his cigarette as though he had not smoked for hours.

This was exactly what he needed.

"It's cold," he commented as he got to the end of his cigarette. He flicked it away. "Let's go."

As they moved away from the clearing, she passed an arm under his. He was about to slap her hand away, but he reckoned she was cold. He put an arm around her shoulders and heard her breathe with relief. After all, she was wearing a dress and a thin overcoat whereas he was wearing a suit. It was logical to presume she was cold, the more after sitting so on the bench for so long.

He got into the car and started the motor, skimming with his glance over the dark forest and thinking how fortunate it was that they really did not run across anyone. It would just bring unnecessary problems with it which he did not need. However, he came ready.

"Let's drink something," he said as he drove down the road back toward London. "You're probably freezing."

"I'll be fine," she whispered.

There was something strange in her voice, but he dismissed it. She probably got scared shitless which had been one of his goals. And if she could not handle it, she would need to learn to handle it. It was just another lesson he was giving her.

As he stopped on the first crossroad he cast a glance at her. It was obvious she had been crying because her eyes were gleaming in the scanty streetlight, but she was trying to hide it. Christopher inwardly rolled with his eyes. Not that again. He felt annoyance bubbling up in his stomach but he pushed it away. She was perfect for him. He was not about to ruin this for himself just because he got annoyed with her crying. After all, she did everything else very well. And in his experience, women sometimes cried for inexplicable reasons. When asked, they even could not say why they were crying. So he learned to treat it as something what was annoying, but would pass if he did not lose his temper and was patient with them.

Thus he decided to talk to her about it.

"Was the fear too much for you?" he asked.

He stepped on the gas as the traffic light turned green.

"I'll be fine," she repeated.

"If it was, you could've said the word, but you didn't," he said. "Again."

"No," she whispered.

"We talked about trust," he said as he drove down the long street beside Regent's park.

"I know," she whispered.

"I swore I would take care of you," he continued. "No matter what. But I need you to trust me with your life."

"I will," she breathed.

"But you're not trusting me that much yet," he said, casting a glance at her.

She was crying again but she was trying to be silent while doing it.

"I'm trying," she said quietly.

"Well," he said, satisfied with her honesty if nothing else. "That's a start. We'll work on it. And now we're going to get seriously drunk."

She sniffed again and managed to smile.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Once again as she opened her eyes, the grey wall of Christopher's guest room swam into view. She initially designed this room as a guest room thinking someone might get drunk and would need to spend the night or someone from the Order might be visiting and Christopher would want the person to stay at his place, but it was obvious she would sleep in this room every time she spent the night here.

To her grand surprise, she did not have a headache.

And she remembered distinctly Christopher had her drinking one glass of wine after another and then vaguely how he dragged her off to his sleeping room and chained her to the bed. She did not like drunken sex because then she could not remember much, but judging by the soreness in her intimate parts it must have been good.

Just as she remembered he fed her some pills before putting her to bed, the door opened and he stepped in.

"So you're awake," he said in his bass, which sounded even deeper given that he obviously only just got up. "Does anything hurt?"

Amelia shook her head and took in his appearance. His body was to die for, she thought. He could have any woman he want, but he wanted her.

"Well, I gave you something as a precaution," he said, glancing over her like a doctor trying to decide on the diagnosis. In the end he seemed to conclude that she was okay. "Can you cook?"

With Christopher she was never sure how he wanted her to behave. The problem got worse because he was there the whole time she spent in the Order and was ordering people around. It was his job, after all and he was doing it with everyone, not just her. But this made it very difficult for Amelia to know how he wanted her to behave.

"Sort of," she said.

Saliva gathered in her mouth at the look of his hairless chest. She stretched like a cat in the bed – and pulled up the blanket as she did so.

"Well, then cook something for breakfast," he said. "Very nice," he said with a smile, glancing over her intimate parts she deliberately exposed. "But I don't have ordinary sex."

What he really wanted to say was that he would have sex with her when and how he wanted to, and not when she was offering. What she found incredibly hot.

"Neither do I," she whispered, smiling.

"Start cooking," he told her, leaving the room.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She was just about to ask what she could wear as he threw a black T-shirt on her bed.

"Thank you," she said grinning, put it on and made her way downstairs.

There was not a lot of food in his fridge, but she found some eggs and began to prepare omelettes. She saw him enter the connecting living room and sit down at the coffee table with his phone in his hands.

She had to think about what happened yesterday. There was one moment in which she really hated him. He scared her to death with his impersonation and what was worst, she felt dirty and horrible at the time. She really thought he left her there and that someone else wanted to take advantage of her. She blamed herself for not realising he would never leave her like that. On the other hand it was a nasty, evil trick and she wanted to punch him for making her go through this.

But it was about trust.

She still did not trust him completely and this was what he was trying to teach her. Even though his methods were bordering on psychotic.

He entered the tiny kitchen, not looking at what she was doing. He grabbed a filter from one of the drawers and began shovelling coffee into it. As he pressed the 'on' button on the coffee machine he yawned widely and then returned to the living room.

Amelia felt a surge of pride at the prospect of preparing food for him, food he would eat, and carried two plates to the small kitchen table. But one glance from him told her he did not want to eat in the kitchen. She placed one plate in front of him on the coffee table and he nodded. So the kitchen table was also superfluous, she thought. When she was designing the house, she had no idea who she was designing it for. In other words, she did not know him. All she had was random bits of information from the members and her own memories of Christopher as he was before, but nothing of this really helped her because he changed so much. Her experience with Christopher and his house cast an entirely different light on her work and she thought about this as she sat down opposite him with the plate in her hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked, staring at her.

Amelia glanced around herself, trying to pinpoint what was wrong. He grabbed a cushion and threw it on the floor next to him. She understood.

With Patrick it had been a clean-cut situation. She knew exactly when he expected her to behave in a certain way. But with Christopher one never knew. He sat on her bed and talked to her a couple of times. And he would never make her sit on the floor during official Order meetings, but that did not prevent him from giving her orders. However as Amelia realised that his part-time arrangement had expanded over almost everything, she felt happiness blossoming inside of her. He seemed to like her and their relationship so much he wanted to extend it to all parts of her life.

She enjoyed listening to his munching, sitting by his feet and eating herself. She had been careful not to put any bacon on her plate, because bacon was not on the nutritional list he made for her. He however did not remark on his eggs – it seemed he liked them.

Come to think of it, she had no idea about Christopher's food preferences. Judging by the state of his fridge, he was probably ordering food all the time.

"I approve of the breakfast you prepared," he said suddenly.

He kept doing this all the time. In the beginning she thought it was a little unnerving, but she got used to it. He could sense what she was thinking. Whether he could sense it all the time was a mystery to her, but he certainly answered her unasked questions very often.

"What was the name of your last partner?" he asked out of the blue.

"Patrick," she said quietly.

Was it possible he was jealous? That was an interesting prospect.

"Did Patrick make you call him 'master'?"

Amelia stopped chewing. How on earth did he know that?

"I sense the answer is yes," Christopher continued matter-of-factly. "It escaped you yesterday and I was just wondering about that."

Amelia blushed and felt she should offer some sort of apology for calling him the way she used to call her ex, but he chuckled.

"I don't mind," he said. "It's not really necessary, but 'your Highness' will do as well."

Amelia smiled. She could imagine he got off on that all the time. And the hand kissing. She also imagined he might have preferred to turn it into foot kissing, but unfortunately he was stuck with it.

"By the way, my mother is coming for a visit," he said. "And I have a task for you before the meeting. You can use my car if you need it."

Obviously he did not want her here when his mother came. She half forgot he was British and that it would be logical to assume he had family here. But he never talked about it. He on the other hand knew everything about her family.

"That second guest room," he continued. "I don't need it. I would like you redesign it as a gym instead. I'll give you a list of things I need for working out and you will order them."

"I can do that online," she said. "Seeing weights would not really mean anything to me."

"You want to be here when my mother comes?" he guessed.

Yes and no. She minded him shooing her away because it basically meant he was ashamed of her or did not consider her to be important enough to introduce to his mother. On the other hand she dreaded meeting her. Meeting the parents was not something she enjoyed.

She heard him sigh.

"My mother is a very annoying creature," he said. "She keeps trying to design my life according to the way she thinks I should lead it and doesn't react to clear messages I don't want her advice. Explanations don't work, violence doesn't work. I've learned that the best possible tactic is to just ignore her. She's probably going to make drama about my smoking and drinking and criticise whatever she sees. Oh and she's going to be pissed off because I told her only two days ago I was back in England. I want coffee now."

Amelia put away her plate and got up to fetch his coffee.

"On the other hand," he said, lighting a cigarette, "stick around."

She turned with surprise written all over her face. His thin lips spread into the sadistic smile she knew very well.

"She's going to have a go at you as well," he added. "And I know you like being tormented."

"Only by you," she protested.

"Well, consider it as a sort of 'extension'," he said, now smoking with a self-satisfied expression on his pale face.

"You know I'll do whatever you tell me."

She placed the cup in front of him, aware of his dark eyes which were following her every move.

"And that's how it's supposed to be," he said quietly.

She smiled weakly and sat once again on the cushion beside his feet. His left hand lowered on her head and she sighed in delight. Of course she realised what they were doing. She was sitting by his feet and he was PETTING her. But Amelia learned not to question or analyse her preferences and thus deny herself the experience. She liked getting petted and that was fine.

"When is she coming?" she asked, finishing her eggs.

"In an hour," Christopher said, casting a glance at the clock.

With a stab of panic Amelia thought she should get dressed and not sit here in his T-shirt which was too big for her with her crotch exposed, but she would wait for instructions.

Once he was done smoking, he drew a piece of paper to himself and began to write. His hand would occasionally slide over the side of the couch and caress her head, but he would withdraw it to take a sip of his coffee. The scent of coffee was driving her mad and she was dying to have a cup. However it seemed he wanted her to stay put.

"May I have coffee too?" she tried asking.

"No," he answered flatly.

She pursed her lips and remained seated where she was, listening to his scribbling and the ticking of the clock. After about ten minutes he threw the paper down at her and pulled out a cigarette from the pack.

"Read it and tell me if you have any questions," he said.

Amelia skimmed over the paper. It was a list of things he needed for his gym. She could not understand half of it, but it was fine. She would just order what he wrote.

"I'll manage," she said at length.

She actually planned on calling one of her employees at the firm who was regularly working out in case she got stuck.

"Good," he said. "Now you may have your coffee. I'm going to the bathroom and will put your clothes on the bed."

He grabbed the latest edition of The Times from the table and headed for the door. Amelia vaguely wondered whether he read newspapers while he was in the loo. She could picture it. He was the kind of person who did not like to waste his time so if he was already forced to sit on the loo then he could at least do something useful, like reading.

She used the opportunity while he was in the upstairs bathroom to use the downstairs one and after one and a half cups of coffee she ascended the stairs. She peeked into his sleeping room. The sound of running water had stopped, but he was obviously still inside. The thought of what he was actually doing crossed her mind but she headed for the guest room. A very girly dress with a flower pattern was on the bed, along with the bra she wore yesterday and clean knickers with a flower pattern. Did he plan on introducing her to his mother? Why else would he have bought this dress?

On the other hand he just might have ordered a ton of different clothes in her size, planning on having her wear something from the pile when he felt like it.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Christopher had Amelia sitting in the living room – beside him – while they waited for his mother to show up. He was going through his mails on his tablet and Amelia was flipping through The Times, now wearing the girly dress and matching underwear. He certainly did not get off on such garments and a part of her was still suspicious as to the real reason why he bought it for her.

Come to think of it, Christopher did not get off on garments at all. He got off on the feeling of power.

"You know I'm very angry with you," Amelia heard a female voice from the hallway.

"What should I do about it?" she heard Christopher's voice and Amelia stifled a laugh. It was ridiculous to assume Christopher would have guilty conscience for not calling on his mother sooner.

"Cheeky as always," his mother muttered. "I brought you food."

She entered the living room and stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Amelia as though she was an alien specimen.

Christopher's mother was a tiny woman with wild, curly hair and obviously had a liking for New Age, judging by her clothes which were obviously Indian.

"Hi, Mrs Thomas," Amelia said, feeling her cheeks burning. "I'm Amelia."

"And you obviously did not tell me you have a girlfriend," Christopher's mother shot at him.

Christopher was standing with his hands in his pockets looking exceedingly bored.

"Pleased to meet you," Christopher's mother said, extending a hand to Amelia. "I'm Mary. How do you manage his cheekiness I wonder?"

"Er…" Amelia started, but did not manage to say anything. It seemed however she was not expected to.

"And when did you buy this house?" his mother continued, disappearing in the kitchen. "Oh my, what a small kitchen. Amelia, how do you manage this?"

Christopher and Amelia exchanged glances and he rolled his eyes. Amelia could now understand what he was talking about when he said his mother was annoying. That is, she could understand why he perceived her as annoying.

As his mother started putting the Tupperware boxes into the fridge he sat down next to Amelia and pulled out a cigarette. It was obvious he just wanted this to end.

"You're still smoking," his mother commented.

"Obviously," he said.

"Have you ever seen smoker's lungs?"

"Yeah," he said. "On my x-ray. They look horrible."

He grinned at his mother whereas Amelia kept glancing from one to the other as though following a tennis match. He was making fun of her and was doing it openly, but even though it was blatantly obvious what he was doing she still kept going.

"I hope Amelia will get you in order, you and your smoking and your scotch," Mary muttered.

Amelia looked at Christopher who grinned evilly in her direction.

"Oh I think it's going to be the other way round," he commented.

Amelia felt her cheeks burning and looked down on her hands.

"Now, tell me everything," Mary demanded, sitting down and casting a quick glance around the room. "Such sombre colours! Who lived here I wonder?"

Amelia lifted her eyebrows and tried to calm down. She should not say she designed it.

"I came back, I bought a house, I found a job and started seeing Amelia," Christopher summarised. "That's my life in a nutshell."

"You prat," Mary hissed. "You didn't even tell me you thought about coming back! The last time we talked you hung up on me saying you were going out and had no time for small talk. That was three months ago and you were still in New York."

"It was all very sudden," Christopher lied. "I got tired of the US and decided I wanted to smell the English air again."

"He's impossible," Mary said, looking at Amelia and obviously asking for some support. "God, I hope you can do something about him."

Amelia did not say anything.

"Job, what kind of a job?" Mary remembered.

"I got a teaching position at LSE," Christopher said, shrugging.

"Ah," Mary said as she remembered what the abbreviation stood for. "That's good. What about you, Amelia, what do you do?"

"I… I own a firm which does interior design," Amelia said quietly.

She hoped that Mary would not ask her to 'redesign' Christopher's house.

"That's brilliant," Mary said, smiling kindly at her. "What about your family?"

The 'interrogation' continued for about an hour and a half after what Christopher announced he and Amelia were invited to a party and had to get ready. Mary finally left his house, loudly complaining about his lack of desire to talk to his 'own mother', got into her car and drove off.

Amelia was not very surprised to hear Christopher wanted a drink. In fact, she asked for permission to make one for herself. She had never met a person like Mary and could understand why Christopher found her annoying. To Amelia she was just intense. It was hard for Amelia to keep track of what she was saying as she was jumping from one topic to another and also did not allow people to cut in. Amelia's head was spinning.

"May I ask you something?" Amelia asked, handing him a lighter.

He hummed, bringing the lighter to the tip of his cigarette and then throwing it aggressively on the table.

"Since… things changed," Amelia started. "I mean, you said you wanted part-time commitment. But things obviously changed. And it's hard for me not knowing when I should behave in a certain way and when I shouldn't."

He hummed again.

"For instance that incident with the wine during Order Ritual," she continued. "I just acted on the spur of the moment. And since I'm used to following your orders it might have looked a little strange in the outside world."

His thin lips spread into a smile.

"Outside world…" he echoed, sounding thoughtful. "You're right. I haven't established any rules yet because I wanted to see what would appeal to me."

And of course he did not take into consideration whether what appealed to him would also appeal to her, but he knew it would.

"But let's put it this way: I won't mind if in such situations your behaviour isn't according to my expectations. But here's a task for you as well: follow your intuition and try to sense what I want."

Her head turned toward him.

"You're a Duchess after all," he explained. "You mastered yourself. You know exactly who you are. But following your intuition, or the voice of your inner Black Sun, is the path to higher grades."

"Are you mentoring me as well?" she asked incredulously.

"What if I was?"

"I would think that's bloody brilliant," she said, grinning.

He grinned back.

"Okay," she said. "I'll give it a go. Any pointers?"

"There's a book in my study which will give you a hint. I'll give it to you later and you can read it at your leisure."

"Thank you."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few Knights who were standing in front of the Order building stared in surprise as they saw Amelia arriving together with Christopher, but they were not stupid to remark on it. Amelia was glowing as she followed Christopher inside. She thought that the truth was written all over her face for the whole world to see, but she did not care. Relationship with Christopher was intense and strange and it was nothing she ever experienced. But now she understood what he meant when he said it would help her on her Path. And she thought excitedly about all the lessons he would give her and new things she would learn. With Christopher one never knew exactly where one was going, but he seemed to know very well where he was taking her.

She found that incredibly hot.

Already at the start of the meeting it became clear that Christopher intended to keep the high level of formality and etiquette as he remarked that a couple of Knights were 'not sitting on correct places'. Amelia glanced around the room and understood what he meant. Sitting arrangement.

As for her, she was sitting together with Gregory and Frank on beside Christopher, whereas the guests further away. Amelia wondered how such meetings looked like when hundreds of members were present. In such situations formality would be the only way to establish order and discipline.

Frank lifted a hand in the air and looked expectantly at Christopher, who cast a fleeting glance at him.

"Duke Frank." Christopher pointed at him and Frank got to his feet.

"Your Highness, I wanted to ask what we should do with a couple of people who were on our candidate list before you arrived?"

"Thank you, Duke Frank," Christopher said without looking at him and Frank sat down.

"I reviewed the list and read their biographies. However, I would like to meet them myself," Christopher said.

Of course. Control freak, Amelia thought. Christopher would not stand for something happening behind his back.

Frank nodded.

"And in connection with that, I'm going to assign individual tasks to each one of you," Christopher continued. "Which will concern the so called candidate hunting." Frank smiled. "Well, this is how we called it in New York anyway. Even though one can only get recommended by a Count or higher grades, that does not mean one cannot find a candidate and then report to someone else who has a higher grade."

People looked excited at this prospect and Amelia found herself thinking about her firm and the people she knew. She could not isolate anyone as a candidate but for a while, as she half-listened to the financial report, she tried to visualise what it would feel like if the British Order was bigger. She was not sure she would like this, but then again it was clear Christopher's intentions were to make the British Order grow exponentially.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After the meeting everyone spread around the salon. Amelia could see why Christopher wanted a bar and a kitchen here. There was no need for them to go to a restaurant or to a bar in order to get food or drink after long meetings or Rituals. But this way they also did not need to be careful about what they were saying because there was no possibility they would be overheard.

Amelia was sitting beside Marquise Arja, who was chatting with Christopher, whereas King Olkku and Duke Frank fell into a heated discussion about political parties in their respective countries. Count Gregory was sipping his beer and was silent as per usual. Amelia wondered whether Christopher and Arja ever slept together, because she could feel some sort of strange chemistry between them. If it ever happened, Amelia could understand it. She knew Christopher liked women without curves and Arja fell into that category. She was almost as tall as Christopher and her willowy frame was emphasised by long, black hair which fell down her back almost to her hips.

Arja recently got divorced and was now living alone, as Amelia understood. She was complaining about her younger daughter who had strange ideas and also told Christopher she was seeing someone.

"Well," he said, smiling. "How long were you without a name?"

"Three years," Arja said with sadness in her voice.

Amelia had no clue what they were talking about but she figured it must be some higher grade slang.

"That's not very long," Christopher commented. "But sometimes it's hard to draw a line."

"Definitely," Arja said, nodding. Her bracelets clinked as she lifted a hand to run it through her hair. "But I think I'm really living my name since recently."

"Congratulations," Christopher said, grinning. "And you're seeing someone."

Arja nodded, crossing her legs.

He was doing it again, Amelia thought, kept sensing what Arja was thinking but she was doing the same. It was like a strange mental ping pong game in which the ball sometimes disappeared, only to appear on the opposite side.

"We talked about him moving in with me," she said. "I think that one of the problems we'll have to face is him feeling not macho enough because I'm earning more than he does."

Christopher snorted with laughter.

"A plebeian," he commented. "No offence, Marquise Arja."

"None taken."

"Don't you find it a little boring you can see right through his thoughts and actions?" he inquired.

"No," Arja said. "Well, at some point I would need to disclose myself, but we're not there yet. We have this amazing chemistry."

"Oh I understand, he's a good fuck," Christopher commented.

Arja punched him on the shoulder, but smiled nevertheless.

"Language, young man," she reprimanded him. "And you? Are you still on a fucking spree?"

"And look who's talking about vulgarities."

"I'm just adapting to the situation and the collocutor," Arja said. "Well?"

"No, Marquise Arja, I'm no longer on a fucking spree, as you call it. I'm shagging the same person over and over again."

He looked straight at Amelia and brought the cigarette to his lips with a smirk, which was when her blood went down to her kickers. She felt herself blushing and the only thing she could think about was that the way he said it was incredibly hot.

Count Gregory seemed to be listening attentively.

"Wow, that's something new for you," Arja said. "What happened to the guy who didn't want any commitment?"

Christopher shrugged.

"Who is she?"

Christopher leaned aback and just pointed at Amelia.

Arja turned and looked at her with surprise written all over her face, whereas Christopher smirked. Amelia looked down on her hands. Really, Christopher. Could he have not done it in a subtler way?

"Duchess Amelia is the one?" she heard Arja say and looked up.

Arja was staring at her with an impressed expression as though she was seeing her for the first time in her life.

By this time everyone was silent and was staring at Amelia. Well, now they all knew. But in this moment Amelia wanted to drop through the floor. As proud and happy as she was that Christopher publicly disclosed he was in a relationship with her, she did not like being stared at.

"I need to get to know you," Arja said, leaning toward Amelia. "The one person who got this naughty boy finally settle down. You must be a very special person."

Amelia opened her mouth to say something and imagined that for a moment she looked like a fish on dry land, but then she managed to smile.

"Come, Duchess Amelia, we ladies are going to have a drink together away from those annoying men and you'll tell me about yourself," Arja said excitedly, getting to her feet.

As Amelia slowly stood up, she looked toward Christopher.

"You should do as you're told," Christopher said, smiling.


	8. Chapter 7

AN: Slash again. I'll take a break after this chapter and continue with the story once I'm done with a certain project I'm working on. Don't worry, I'll be back. ;)

CassieG

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 7

The next day Amelia was to have coffee with her sister and afterwards she would go shopping. Christopher made a list of things he wanted her to buy while he was working at home. The descriptions of the items he wanted were so precise that there was no way Amelia could buy something wrong.

"You look very happy," Ellie commented as she dipped the spoon in her coffee.

"I am," Amelia said, smiling.

"Any new bruises?"

"Very funny, Ellie."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist it," Ellie commented, grinning. "So how's that going? With your mystery man?"

"Very good," Amelia said.

She did not want to tell her sister about the incident in the woods. She knew that Ellie was trying hard to understand Amelia, but that would be beyond Ellie's limits. She would probably demand of her to leave him straight away.

"Just for the sake of curiosity," Ellie said, "how big is he?"

"Ellie!" Amelia protested. "Really!"

"Perhaps you have other criteria," Ellie said, shrugging. "But to most women size matters."

"You're impossible," Amelia muttered. "He's… well, it's good."

"I find it very hard to believe that you can't talk about the size of a man's penis and yet enjoy such fetishes."

"It's just that…" Amelia trailed off and sighed. "I find it somehow disrespectful toward him to talk about him in such terms."

"Disrespectful?" Ellie echoed, staring at her incredulously. At length she shook her head. "I don't get it, but fine. So he has a big cock, good for you."

Amelia felt her cheeks burning, what Ellie just ignored.

"Are you planning on moving in with him?" she asked.

"He hasn't said anything about that yet."

"And you can't ask, okay, I get it. Well would you want that?"

"Of course," Amelia said, taking a sip from her cup.

Her phone rang and Ellie leaned aback, watching her pull it out and answer the call.

"No," she said. "I'm still with Ellie. Yes. Of course." She pulled out the list he gave her and rummaged around for a pen in her handbag. Ellie leaned over the table while Amelia scribbled. "I added it. I'll see you later."

"What the hell is that?" Ellie asked.

Before Amelia could do anything about it, she snatched the list from the table and began to read. Her grey eyes became bigger and bigger with every word she read.

"I give up," she said at length, throwing the list on the table. "I have no idea what half of those things are."

"Sex toys," Amelia whispered.

"I'm going shopping with you," Ellie said with determination. "I just have to see what these things are."

"No," breathed Amelia with horror written all over her face.

"Why not?"

"Well, because…" Amelia stopped.

"Yes?"

Amelia shut her mouth. She did not want Ellie to see what she was buying. She knew Ellie was curious but she was certain she could not handle it.

"Look, you have my full support in this," Ellie said. "I won't run away screaming if that's what you think. I just want to see what these things are. And maybe buy something for myself."

She winked at Amelia, who was staring at her with her mouth open.

"He has a very deep voice," Ellie remarked, pointing at the phone.

Amelia shook her head and tried to bring herself back to reality. Once the shock was gone, a strange thought appeared in her mind. Everything Ellie was, apart from not doing any kind of spiritual practice, was exactly what the Order was looking for. One could not apply for it, but one could get recommended. Amelia looked critically at her sister. Short hair with red highlights, determined grey eyes, cheeky attitude. She was a highly successful computer programmer who was a part of the team creating RPG games. She would be perfect as a candidate.

She should try to talk to Christopher about this. She even was not sure about the formal procedure. But she knew what he would ask her – whether she was recommending her sister for membership just because she wanted her there. A part of her really did. But she was hoping that her sister's qualifications would out outweigh any objections Christopher or anyone else might have.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Just one more page, Christopher thought.

He was writing a scientific article and normally he got it done in three days. But there was the Order and there was Amelia.

When he thought about her, he thought about her as HIS. He liked knowing exactly where she was, what she was doing. He liked to call her sometimes without actual reason, just to catch her by surprise. He even considered tracking her phone, but he had too much to do.

Christopher forced himself to continue working even though he was already getting excited. His brain was now full of schemes what he would do to her instead of scientific theories. As soon as he caught himself thinking about chains, belts and handcuffs with Amelia in combination, he got angry with himself.

And anger was exactly what he needed to focus.

He clicked on some death metal album, turned the volume up and continued working. Anger always gave him strength and focus and he used it for various purposes. Normally he balanced between conscious control of it and channelling anger into something productive, letting it flow freely like molten lava toward a specific goal.

He looked fleetingly at the clock, figuring he should finish this off and get ready for Amelia.

Snorting, he clicked on 'save'. He still needed to write the conclusion, but right now he was running out of time and he did not like to be pressed with time. He lit a cigarette, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He allowed the rush of excitement to wash over him. He dived into the darkness which he normally kept firmly closed and under control. It was not just about being in control of everything around him and in him – that was actually required for the work he was doing for the Order. It was also about those deep, dark desires which now swirled freely in him. It was about the part of him which relished in the feeling of inflicting pain to others.

For him, this part of him and sex went together. Sometimes there was a very thin line dividing the two and a few times when he was in a situation when he had to use physical violence he also felt his sexual urges waking like dragons which slept until then.

In this state he did not see Amelia as a woman he liked. In this state she was a piece of flesh which was there for his amusement and at his disposal. He got high on the combined feelings of satisfaction when inflicting pain and absolute control to the point of life and death, which were like black waves washing over him, swirling, mixing, feeding him. The additional kick was helplessness of his 'victims'. The sheer sight of Amelia bound and there at his mercy got him so excited he sometimes felt dizzy. In those moments space and time disappeared around him, leaving only him and his own darkness at the top of the world, with everyone and everything underneath, small and insignificant.

After a quick meditation about what to do, he crushed his cigarette and got to his feet. He rummaged excitedly in the chest which was normally firmly locked, finally pulling out a heavy chain. He liked the sound of chains clanking. What else did he need? A whip? He loved to use his belt but Amelia said she could hardly sit after the last time he used it on her. A whip was probably a better option, at least for a while. A blindfold. Well, those were always good.

He turned toward his computer, noticing only now the death metal was still playing. He had gotten so excited he forgot to turn it off.

Music, of course.

He sat at the computer with a broad grin on his face and began scrolling through his horror ambient collection. He picked something and let it play. After he heard the first couple of seconds he decided this was good enough and once again turned to the empty room. It was a pity he did not have any hooks in the ceiling.

Never mind. He would just use the chin-ups bar he recently screwed in the door frame.

He chuckled to himself, left the chains and everything else on his chair and got to his feet. Amelia would be there soon.

Oooooooooooooooooooo

But Amelia was late and Christopher was getting very impatient. He did not like to wait for anything. And he especially should not wait for Amelia. It should be the other way around.

He smoked one more cigarette and then took his position behind the door. He would show her what he thought about keeping him waiting.

At long last he heard the screeching of car tyres and straightened up, his muscles taut.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, still looking nervously toward the silent stairs, he grabbed her from behind.

"I'm s…" she started but he did not give her any chance to say anything because he threw her on the floor.

She lay gasping for a couple of moments on the grey tiles of his hallway before tentatively turning her head around. He was standing right behind her, watching her.

Tears were gleaming in her eyes as she stared at him, not daring to move an inch in case this got him even angrier. Christopher approached her, crouched beside her and glanced over her, still feeling that burning anger at the pit of his stomach, which now mixed with pleasure. The unasked question in her eyes only served to open up a whole world of possibilities for him. For a couple of seconds he relished the feeling of power, leaving her to wait in trepidation and then grabbed her for her chin, hard.

She squealed and her breathing quickened. To Christopher it seemed the fear she was emitting was vibrating in her aura and to drink it all in felt like drinking nectar.

"You're twenty minutes late," he hissed at her.

"Ellie," she whispered. "Ellie wouldn't let me go. She…"

Whatever she wanted to say got lost in a squeal as he grabbed her and lifted her to her feet.

"So Ellie was more important than a meeting with me?" he asked.

Although he knew of course that it was easy to make Amelia stay just a little while longer. All it took was persuasion and from what he knew about her sister it was very possible. Ellie was a cheeky, self-willed hot-head.

He slammed Amelia against the wall, holding her by the collar. Her eyes were now full of tears and she was trembling from head to foot. However as he lifted his right hand to slap her, she closed her eyes and let it happen. He felt her loosening up in his grip and he lowered his hand.

She succumbed to her fate.

He smiled with satisfaction and released her, picking her up and carrying her toward the stairs. For Christopher it would have been much more fun if she continued trying to get away from him and clinging onto her fear, but this had been the point of one of his lessons.

She did not even open her eyes as he carried her upstairs to his study, where he poised her on her feet and went to his chair.

"Take off your clothes," he instructed her, lighting a cigarette.

He had to gain focus again and all this violence got him seriously horny and excited. He could not allow himself to continue with this. Becase these urges of his had a life of their own and once released, they could continue like this forever. He had to get them under control.

When he turned his head he saw her standing naked and staring at the floor.

Act two.

He picked up the chain and approached her. He would have a bit more of that intoxication, but first he had to get her aroused, which part was not as interesting for him. However it had to be done. He considered it as a sort of meditation, a preparation phase during which he could reflect on what he wanted to do and keep himself under control.

He tied her hands together and then clipped the chain to the chin-ups bar. She had gone very silent and seemed to have no desire to look at him. He would remedy that.

Grabbing her chin he forced her to look at him and opened his senses. She stared back without flinching. What he felt left him very content. She gave herself completely to him.

He smiled and decided to reward her for this.

As he started massaging her, she closed her eyes and passed with her tongue over her lips. He felt her rubbing against his fingers as she moaned. Christopher's movements went on autopilot and he started thinking what to do next. Chains clanking as Amelia moved in her bonds were a music to his ears.

Music, right.

He let go of her and approached the couch where he left the rest of the accessories he chose. He heard her sigh in disappointment and again chains clanking. Her eyes focused at once on the blindfold he was carrying and she automatically closed her eyes as he put it on.

Christopher took a step back to survey his masterwork. She was waiting for him. He loved this moment because she could not see anything and he could relish the sight of her being so tied up and helpless. Moisture glinting on her intimate parts made him smile and he wanted to torment her more with waiting. He went around her, glancing over her helpless body and noticing she was beginning to develop hints of beautiful, elongated muscles on her arms. He checked a couple of times whether she was going to the gym regularly and of course she was. She also seemed to be following his training plan.

The thought of how a tattoo with his name would look fantastic on her tiny bum passed through his head and he resisted the urge to laugh. He just might do that. On the other hand there was the necklace he gave her which she was wearing all the time. This was enough to mark him as his for now. He would think about the tattoo later.

He ran his fingers over her bum, massaging himself. It was time for some pain.

A surge of excitement flooded him as he picked up the whip and turned it in his hand. For him this was a suitable expression of power. It was all on him. He could do it and then he could choose not to do it. He could choose where and how hard he would swing. Once again he allowed darkness to spill over him and felt as though he opened a water valve. There was always this handbrake, this thin line he did not allow himself to cross. Even when the dark waves flooded his being he always kept his eyes open and his will ready to take control.

He swung with the whip and it took her so by surprise that she let out that delightful sound in her throat he loved hearing. Overwhelmed with the desire to hear it again, he swung even harder, now faintly feeling his control was slipping away.

This time she screamed atop of her lungs as her whole body swung forward.

Christopher lowered his hand and closed his eyes. He knew that this time he took it too far. What was wrong with him? Was he overworked? Was he so frustrated that at the very first hint of a chance to vent it in his favourite way he just lost himself?

He took great pride in his self-control. He worked on it tirelessly and brought it to high levels throughout the many years he spent in the Order. Any hint of loss of self-control made him angry at himself. And it was happening now.

Perhaps it was best to stop with this and give her some pleasure while he would use the time to reclaim his self-control.

Careful not to press himself against her he slid two fingers in her. She did not moan. She was still recovering from his whipping, what told him enough. He glanced over her breasts which began to tremble as pain subsided and pleasure kicked in. Every now and then he would pass with thumb over her clitoris. As he felt her pushing against his hand and getting so wet his own hand was almost dripping, he stopped and moved away.

He would not be defeated.

He never ran away from anything and he would definitely not stoop so low now. Just because for some reason he lost his self-control he should not run away from it. He could actually just shut down the part of him which was responsible for the loss of self-control, those black waves which always lived inside of him but slept and woke at his command, but he did not want to do that either. He would face it head on.

Picking up the whip again and getting ready for it mentally, he opened himself once again to it and swung with the whip, carefully controlling the movement and taking a break afterwards to relish the feeling while standing before proceeding. Her reactions told him it was well within boundaries. He took a deep breath after number ten exactly and mentally closed the valve. It had been enough.

Taking off his sweats and throwing them aside he thought about taking her down and making her give him a blow job but he decided against it. He went around her, glancing over her bum. He fixed her up pretty bad but he was in the end content with his performance. He was challenged, he accepted the challenge and he won. He liked winning.

Slowly he pushed in her and heard her gasping with delight. After a few thrusts however he got a little annoyed with this position which did not allow him to penetrate as deep as he wanted. Impatiently he took her down, grabbed her by the hips and pushed her against the wall.

This was better, he though with satisfaction. He leaned over her, massaging her as he fucked her at a slow pace, not wishing to come too soon. Because the truth was – all that pushing her around and whipping her made him aroused to the point of bursting. He patiently waited for the signs she was close, concentrating on her tightness and her body language, carefully controlling every movement and ignoring the stimuli which would send him over the rim. As he felt her begin to twitch under him, he quickened up the pace, keeping her hips in place because he had to keep stroking her. Release felt like ejecting all the frustration through his cock. Perhaps he really WAS overworked.

He turned her around and began taking the chain off. The thought of a nice glass of whiskey crossed his mind. As he took down the blindfold, she blinked.

"I'm impressed," he said, looking at her straight in the eye while leaning with one hand against the wall.

Despite of everything he perhaps overdid today, his praise did the trick. Amelia smiled broadly, picked up his right hand and brought it to her lips.

"Wait here," he told her. "I need to take a look at that bum of yours."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Fifteen minutes later Christopher and Amelia made their way into his living room. He needed a drink after such a long day and was now feeling blissfully relaxed and empty. She on the other hand was walking with a wince, what he noticed just as he settled down on his sofa. He therefore placed three and not just one cushion on the floor beside him and pointed at them.

"Thank you," she said, sitting down carefully and leaning back against the sofa with a sigh.

He lit a cigarette and let his hand fall down on her head, slowly caressing her hair. He noticed she closed her eyes in delight and he smiled. Perhaps it was uncharacteristic of him to be so tender, but he got off on the position they were sitting in and besides, she liked it as well. Even though he knew it felt awkward for her in the beginning.

"Did you buy everything I told you to?" he asked, sipping his scotch.

"Yes."

"So Ellie went with you. I want to hear all the details."

Amelia sighed, moving a bit forward. He supposed her bum was aching badly but right now there was nothing he could do. He smeared soothing cream over it and that was it.

"She accidentally saw the list as I was adding what you told me," Amelia began her story. She stopped for a second for a reaction, but none came. He was not angry with her. But anyway there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. Ellie had just been too fast.

"And she wanted to go shopping with me," Amelia continued. "She found some things there which captured her attention and wanted to know their purpose. So I explained. But she kept on looking around and asking about things. I told her I needed to go because I had a meeting with you but she just didn't let me."

"Have you learned something from the whole experience?"

"Yes," she said quietly, looking down on her hands. "I won't do it again."

"Well," he said, surveying the top of her head. "You already have been punished for that. I don't want you to be late, ever again. If you're stuck in traffic or are caught up in some Order business, call me and explain. You could have called this time as well and it would have been fine. However, you didn't even remember who you're answering to. You stayed with Ellie and ignored my waiting. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Your Highness."

His hand began to move in her hair and she breathed with relief.

"However for what you accomplished afterwards I will reward you," he said. He felt she smiled. "You managed to let go. In that moment you showed you trusted me completely. I don't think the lesson is over, but this is a huge step for you."

She turned her head toward him and smiled broadly. He returned the smile.

"What would you like?" he asked. "It can be anything."

She got up to refill his glass, obviously thinking about it.

"May I have pancakes?" she asked.

He stared at her.

"You want pancakes?" he asked, a smile of amusement hovering on his lips.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, placing the refilled glass in front of him and sitting down again. "You put me on a diet and I've missed sweets. I've been craving sweets for ages."

He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head. There are all kinds of people, he thought. He might go nuts if someone suddenly denied him fags, but sweets would have been no problem. He did not like sweet anyway.

"Pancakes it is," he said, picking up his IPhone.

Amelia looked as though Christmas had come early this year.

"How many do you want?"

"Er… six?" she said tentatively.

"Okay, six. With chocolate?"

"Yes, please. And bananas."

He ordered a sandwich for himself and six pancakes for Amelia and then leaned back.

"I would like to meet this Ellie," he said at length.

It seemed once again he was sensing something.

"I actually wanted to recommend her for the Order," Amelia said.

"Did you, now?" he asked thoughtfully. "Well. You will bring her here and I will talk to her. We will find a time and a date which suits me."

There was no need to send biographies because he already knew everything about Ellie. In fact, he knew everything about everyone in Amelia's family.

"May I ask you something personal?" Amelia asked.

"You ask and I'll see whether I want to answer," he said.

Of course. She did not expect anything else.

"Can you tell me something about your family? You know everything about mine but I don't know anything about yours. Except that I met your mother."

He sighed and lit another cigarette as though talking about his family was a grand challenge.

"My parents are divorced," he said. "My father lives with his wife on the other side of the town, but I'm no longer in contact with him."

"Why did they divorce?"

"He was abusive."

Amelia did not expect such an answer.

"Toward your mother or toward you as well?" she dared to ask.

"Both," he said.

His tone barely changed as he said it.

"My mother took me and left him," he continued. "We never stayed at one place for too long, because he was looking for us. He kept showing up at her friends' places and demanded to know where we were. After a while he obviously found someone more interesting because he stopped trying to find us. Afterwards there were some despicable attempts to get my mother back. That's one thing I respect her for. She stood her ground and didn't yield to threats or empty promises."

"That's awful childhood," Amelia commented.

"Perhaps," he said. "But it helped me to become what I am. I learned to take care of myself and to be independent. It also taught me of self-control."

"Which is remarkable," she admitted.

He would disagree, but he did not want to expose his weaknesses.

"I know," he said instead.

He caressed her head again and she sighed with enjoyment.

"Why do you think Ellie would be a good addition to the Order?" he asked.

"She's very talented," Amelia said. "She's a computer whiz. She's also very stubborn. Once she makes up her mind she wants something, she's going to go through walls to get it."

"Well, that's not always very productive," he commented. "But I understand. I'm like that as well."

For a while they sat in silence while he stroked her head. He knew however that there was something she was not telling him. Because if Ellie went with her to the sex shop she knew Amelia was seeing someone. And she must have asked. Knowing Amelia, she told her at least something.

"Did you tell her about us?" he asked.

He felt her stiffen up.

"I just told her I was seeing someone, but I didn't tell her the name," Amelia said. "She doesn't know anything about you. Except, well…"

He smiled. Ellie must have noticed something on Amelia which pointed to having a relationship like this one.

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not angry with you."

"You're not?" she asked, turning her head toward him. He shook his head, still caressing her hair. She leaned toward his leg and embraced it.

"She saw the necklace you gave me," she whispered. "And this is how she guessed I was seeing someone."

"Oh so little Ellie doesn't miss a thing, does she?" Christopher asked rhetorically. "Yes, I'm looking forward to meeting her."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Why so suddenly?"

Amelia shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road before her.

"I'm not sure what you mean", she said.

"You said he wanted to keep this a secret between the two of you," Ellie said. "You couldn't even agree to appear in a bar and tell me so I could also show up and see him from a distance. And now all of a sudden this bloke wants to meet me?"

Amelia could not really tell Ellie why Christopher wanted to meet her just yet, but she would play dumb as always in such situations.

"I don't know, I'm telling you," she said. "Maybe he just wants to meet you because he knows we're very close."

"This is so frustrating," Ellie said, rubbing her forehead as though she could feel a headache coming while trying to decipher why her sister's secret lover wanted to meet her.

"Just relax," Amelia said.

"Well, at any rate, whatever his reasons are," Ellie said, "I'm finally going to meet him."

Amelia carefully turned left.

"He lives on top of that hill?" Ellie asked incredulously, pointing at a lone house. "But why am I surprised? Should've expected something of the sort."

They passed through the iron gate and Ellie whistled.

"That's a beautiful house," Ellie said as Amelia pulled over in front of the house, parking behind Christopher's Audi. "And you designed the interior?"

"Yes," Amelia said, smiling.

"I can't wait to see it. What are you doing?"

Amelia was taking off her shoes.

"I can't drive in these things," she told her sister. "Look at the heel. Driving is challenging enough for me, even without these buggers."

"Oh so you want to make yourself pretty for him, I get it," Ellie said, winking at her. "I mean I don't really get how women can spend so much time and money to make themselves pretty for men, but there are all kinds of people."

She got out of the car and looked around while Amelia scrambled out in her high heeled shoes.

"Come on," she hurried her sister, ringing the bell.

Even though it was not really necessary. Amelia knew now how he had known she had been masturbating in his sleeping room. The man had cameras everywhere. And he most certainly knew they were here.

"Hi," she said breathlessly as he opened the door.

"Hi," he said in his bass, simply placing an arm around her waist instead of kissing her. His glance briefly travelled over her front, after what it fixed on Ellie, who was staring at him.

"Ellie," he said, letting go of Amelia and extending his right hand. "Glad to finally meet you."

Ellie shook his hand, taking in his appearance. This was Amelia's secret lover?

"Come," he said, turning around and leading the way into his living room.

"Wow Amelia," Ellie felt compelled to say, looking around, "I love this."

She looked back toward Christopher, who was already sitting on the couch and surveying her.

"Thanks," Amelia said, grinning. "What do you want to drink?"

"Nothing," Ellie said. "I'd rather want to know why I'm here."

"Isn't it obvious?" Christopher asked with a smile, accepting a glass of scotch from Amelia. "I wanted to meet you."

"Good try, but I'm not buying it," Ellie said, smirking. "Amelia has been seeing you for months now and you had plenty of opportunities to meet me. I know my sister has asked you whether you could just show up in some bar so I can see you from a distance, because she asks you for permission for everything."

His thin lips spread into a smile.

"Very good," he said, taking a sip of his scotch. Ellie shrugged. "Well, yes, I wanted to meet you because I wanted to get to know you and see whether we could work together."

"Are you a computer programmer?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and surveying him. "You don't look like one. But I'd say you're definitely doing something along the same line."

"Math."

"Ah, that explains the symmetry OCB," Ellie remarked. "I get that as well, but only with specific things. Well, I'm sure you know everything about me." She cast a glance in Amelia's direction. "I know she probably told you everything about me. But if you're keen on working together with me on some project, I have the right to know something about you as well."

"Fair enough," Christopher said, nodding. "I have a PhD in math, I'm thirty and I'm seeing your sister."

"That's it?" Ellie asked as after a couple of seconds of silence on his part it became clear he was done with his narration. "What about other details?"

"Such as?"

"Hobbies, interests?"

"Well," he started, looking toward the ceiling and obviously thinking, "I like working out and I like dogs."

"The first one is pretty obvious," Ellie remarked. "But dogs? You don't own one."

"No, I didn't have the chance to get one yet," he said. "I've been in the US doing my research."

Ellie whistled.

"Okay, it's obvious you're not the talkative type," she said. "So let's get down to business. What's this project about?"

"Amelia has told me that you're the kind of person who likes challenges," Christopher said, casually draping an arm around Amelia's shoulders.

To Ellie it looked like he was saying 'mine' with this gesture. Before she used to wonder what kind of a man could he be to actually enjoy inflicting pain to her sister, but now that he was here in person she could understand and picture it. He was arrogant, he obviously enjoyed ordering people around and was antisocial. And he liked to control every situation what he demonstrated just now. He would not directly answer a question if this did not suit him and would rather work his way around it.

"And I can assure you that the job I'm offering you will challenge you," he continued.

"What about the money?" Ellie asked, leaning forward.

Amelia knew her sister and the glint in her eyes told her that Ellie was very interested. She was not earning bad in the company where she was working, but challenges were rare. Lately she had been very frustrated because her tasks were mostly routine for her.

She smiled as Ellie whistled after hearing the approximate sum Christopher named. It was more or less the average wage of a Knight.

"Okay, what kind of jobs would I be doing?" Ellie asked. "And do you own the company I would be working for?"

"I will explain it to you later," Christopher said. "And yes, I own a company and we need someone of your calibre. But I always like to get to know my employees and this is why I invited you here."

"You must be a very strange boss, then," Ellie said and laughed. "My current boss doesn't give a fuck about me, as long as the job is done."

Ellie and her foul mouth. Amelia lost count of the times she got into trouble for this.

"We're all a big family in the company," Christopher said. "I know everyone and everyone knows me. So let us talk about you."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Amelia was surprised to note that two hours have elapsed since they arrived. Ellie and Christopher were talking as though they were best friends. Amelia was both surprised as she was impressed, because it was not easy for Ellie to be that friendly and open with her friends, let alone a person she just met. But despite of her initial scepticism she seemed to like Christopher. Perhaps he was doing something magically. Perhaps it was the fact that both of them were logical thinkers. But they really seemed to get along.

"The company operates under the auspices of a crown organisation, which is an esoteric one," Christopher said. "Amelia's firm, for instance, is also operating under its auspices."

Ellie's glance fixed on Amelia, who shrugged.

"She never told me anything about that," Ellie said suspiciously.

"Because she promised us she wouldn't," Christopher said matter-of-factly. "It's one of the rules."

Ellie did not look pleased about this but to Amelia it looked as though she discarded it as just one of the weird things she learned today. When it came to the weird and the shocking, Ellie had a wonderful filter. She would keep to the core of the matter and just ignore the rest.

"Okay and what did you mean when you said the organisation was an esoteric one?" Ellie asked.

"Have you ever done any kind of spiritual work?"

"Not really," Ellie said, shrugging and pulling out another cigarette from her pack. Since the both of them were smoking like chimneys, the whole room was beginning to resemble a swamp. "But I know what you mean, it's why I love RPG. But I've never really had the time to do anything about it."

"You will now," Christopher said.

"So this job, it's real?" Ellie asked.

"It's very real," Christopher said. "And I'm a very responsible person. I don't normally go around offering people fictive jobs. In fact, I haven't offered this post to anyone yet since I couldn't find anyone who fit my criteria. You do."

Ellie smirked.

"Don't flatter me," she said pompously. "I know I'm good at what I do. So basically what you're saying is that if I want this job, I also need to get admitted into this esoteric organisation."

"Yes."

"Okay, that's fine," Ellie said to Amelia's grand surprise. "I've always been interested in that kind of thing, I just never had the time. But will I have the time with the job you're offering me? It sounds demanding."

"No office hours, the work is done at home," Christopher said. "And I can personally guarantee you that you will have enough time for everything. In fact, after hearing about your current job from Amelia, I know you'll have a lot of free time as well if you accept this offer."

As Ellie leaned aback and looked at Christopher, Amelia knew she was in for that as well. She felt such joy blossoming within her that it was hard to stop grinning like an idiot.

oooooooooooooooooooo

"So you've been harbouring secrets from me," Ellie said as they got into Amelia's car. "Other than your fetishes. Well, well."

"I'm sorry about that, but the rules are strict," Amelia said, starting the motor.

"And after I heard how much I'll be earning, I'm not surprised," Ellie said. "Why the secrecy though?"

"Would you want everyone to know that the firm where you're employed is giving you so much money? But apart from that, that every employee is also involved in spiritual work?"

"Good point, little sister," Ellie said. "Well, I still don't understand a lot of it, but I'm not going to ask you because I know you can't tell me. But I have to say, Christopher is impressive."

"I know," Amelia said, blushing.

"And although I'm gay I can understand why you fell for him."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Once Amelia and Ellie left, Christopher took his coffee up to his study. He had never owed a house before and this was a change for him. On the whole he liked it, because there was a lot of space for all his things and also spare rooms. But he minded the distance he had to walk between the kitchen and his study. As he was ascending the stairs which seemed to have no end, he caught himself thinking about ordering a small fridge and another coffee machine and putting them in his study. This was a nuisance.

The guests were gone and the British Order was once again reactivated under his leadership. Currently the Order had thirteen members plus Christopher, which was a disaster. Most Orders had between fifty and one hundred members. The number of members had never been a subject of debate, because the Order had very high and specific criteria for admission. One simply had to be a genius in something. The Order was a collection of highly intelligent and competent people and sometimes it was not easy to find candidates. As if this was not hard enough, atop of that one had to have inclination toward magic and self-development. With those criteria, in small countries it was hard to assemble twenty, let alone one hundred people.

But thirteen was a disaster. Christopher just had to do something about it. There was too much work in the Order for thirteen people to handle which was why the Order was not even active in some of the fields yet, because there were not enough members to do it.

Ellie on the other hand would be an excellent addition to the Order.

She possessed that natural willpower and fire which was the characteristic of every good magician. Some worked for years on it, but she was a natural. The only problem with her, as far as Christopher could see it, would be that she was headstrong and self-willed. It was however not an uncommon problem in the Order. Highly intellectual people, who were also black magic practitioners, did not easily bow to authority. Hell, Christopher had a very hard time accepting this. It was simply against the nature of such people to follow a Ruler blindly and execute his orders.

Christopher lit a cigarette and thought about it. He arrived back into the 'family' and started giving orders, excluding himself from their group. Additionally he knew he was pretty strict with them and did not leave any room for waywardness or disobedience. He knew most of them thought he was an arrogant asshole and that he was getting on everyone's nerves.

He would need to remedy that.

What he needed were more informal meetings between the members. He had to give them a chance to get to know him. They would probably never understand him, but that was fine. Christopher hated crowds and he also hated small talk, but it had to be done. He did not want another mutiny on his hands.

As he leaned forward to fetch a cigarette, he saw that King Andrew was online. Perhaps he should get the call over with now and not have the American bastard calling him in the middle of the night. And also, perhaps Andrew had an idea of how to handle this social situation.

"Brother, friend, brat," the American greeted him. Christopher was too used to his attitude to get offended. "It's a bit early for a call."

"Maybe by your standards," Christopher replied coolly.

King Andrew snorted and the video call was established just as he was lighting a cigarette. Andrew was an inveterate smoker and Christopher could not remember seeing him without a cigarette. In fact, Christopher started smoking because of Andrew. He spent a long time living at Andrew's place, when he was going through one of the most difficult and dark phases in his life and initiation. It was mentor's job to take his mentee across the abyss and Andrew decided it was best if he just took Christopher in and keep an eye on him.

"How is everything coming along?" Andrew asked.

"We have a couple of candidates, but we need to do some serious candidate hunting," Christopher said. "Thirteen people is a bloody disaster. We can't manage all the work. We became active in politics only recently, but it's just one member."

"That's bad, my friend, very bad," Andrew replied. "You really need to do something about it."

Christopher gave him the 'you're forgetting who you're talking to' look and the American grinned.

"But you're the Ruler," he said, waving off. "I won't intervene."

"Of course you won't," Christopher said icily. "I wanted to ask you something though. You're more of a social animal than I am."

"No, you're just an animal and that's fine," Andrew said, grinning. "Shoot."

Christopher explained the situation while Andrew listened attentively.

"Well," Andrew said, now on his third cigarette, "I would suggest toning it down a little, but I know you're not the type."

Christopher shrugged.

"I would suggest finding one purpose or a goal or a task which would unite all of you," he said. "Think about it. These people survived the equivalent of the holocaust. They stood watching as their friends were murdered. They were alone for so long and became good friends, the more with the fact that they've even been meeting at each other's houses and doing magical Work together. And then Brother Hitler shows up and starts imposing rules, at the same time treating them like walking and talking servants."

"I'm not…" Christopher started, outraged.

"Let me finish, my friend," Andrew said in a softer tone. "You need to connect to them. You need to open yourself to them and share things with them. You need to come down from your throne and reach out to them. Otherwise it's going to be very bad."

"What do you suggest?"

"A party," Andrew said. "Get drunk with them. Get high with them. Tell them dirty jokes. Dance with the female Knights."

Christopher absolutely detested parties but he could see where Andrew was coming from.

"Or if you think you'd rather shave your head than party with them try paying each of them a social call," Andrew continued. "Reach out to them. Talk to them one on one."

He had a point. Even though Christopher secretly hoped there was an instant solution to this situation, he knew it would not be easy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Christopher enjoyed the temple Amelia designed for him.

The temple itself was very spacious, perhaps too spacious for just one person. But Christopher liked it that way. It was easier to just use one part of the space than not have the rest of it when he needed to move around. The wooden beams running from one side of the attic to the other had been painted black and Christopher screwed in a couple of hooks so he could hang red lamps he recently ordered. The space itself was empty, with the exception of an altar in the middle. A shelf was hidden behind a black curtain at one side of the temple, where Christopher kept his supplies.

He came here today to meditate. To regain focus.

He thought again about the incident with Amelia when he lost control and whipped her too hard. It was not about the damage he had done. He knew she liked it even though at the time it might have been too much. It was about his principles and it all boiled down to one thing – he lost control.

It was demeaning. It was frustrating. It reminded him too much of what he had been through.

He was still a Duke when he started working with Tiamat. In the beginning it was just a fun experiment and Andrew suggested Christopher should do nine Tiamat rituals in a row. Which were the beginning of an end. He felt his energy was going wild and he balanced between aggressiveness, anxiety and despair. Suddenly the whole world seemed different and he could feel things he could not feel before. He could not find any focus and his concentration was very bad. He struggled with writing his thesis and kept getting angrier and angrier.

Which was when the dreams started.

He would dream about slaughtering a whole village with a sword and about raping women. What was most disturbing was that he would wake up charged with energy and feeling very satisfied after having such dreams. It confused and frightened him. He told Andrew about it and Andrew suggested a few guided meditations, during which he was asking Christopher questions and he answered them. In the end Andrew suggested something which turned out to be the point of no return – he suggested Christopher should join the Order's security team, where he would get the chance to take a life. He also suggested Christopher should do it in an organised manner, taking his time to track his inner processes and feelings.

Christopher dreaded it. He was afraid he would lose control just as he used to when he was young. He discovered very early that he was prone to anger attacks, during which he watched his body do things his reason would never approve of. He got into fights when he was in elementary school and afterwards had vague memories of what happened. However, stubborn and obsessed with self-control as he was, he started meditating in order to get these attacks under control. But it seemed that the Tiamat rituals have brought all this to the surface once again and that he had to deal with it all over again.

Andrew requested to be there when it happened. Christopher still remembered the anxiety, his heart pounding in his throat as he tied up his victim on the table and picked up a knife. A part of him wanted to just get it over with, but he knew this was not about pleasing King Andrew. This was about digging out a part of him which he obviously just shut down in a cage and did not master it. It was about this darkness within him which was now struggling to break free and in a most disturbing manner. He would need to be the master of it though. He would need to feel it, but also not allow it to take over control. He had to surf on a tsunami and keep himself afloat.

But in order to really open the valve for the darkness to burst out Christopher had to summon inhuman courage. Because deep within he was dead scared of it and what it could do.

He opened the valve briefly as he swung with the knife. And just as he pulled it out, he forcefully closed the valve again, stumbling away from the table. Andrew got up and put his arms around Christopher, asking him questions. To describe what he was feeling. To describe how it felt to open himself up to it and then close it. They sat there in the room with the dead body for one hour and talked. After that Andrew took him to his home, fed him some pills and put him to bed.

And so it continued.

Andrew would be there every time, following what Christopher was doing and afterwards asking questions. Christopher was getting better and better at opening and closing the valve. But he was also getting calmer on the surface as a result of it. His darkness now had a way of how to express itself and did not need to torment him through his dreams. However, he got addicted to the feeling and needed it. He would be calm and composed on the surface, but deep within there were these voices, egging him to do it again, swirling like dark water, pulling him in. At the time he was living at Andrew's place, who kept an eye on Christopher and watched his every move. During this time Christopher was promoted to fifth grade, as a result of everything he was doing and what he discovered about himself.

Christopher had no idea how many he had killed.

His life turned into the life of an addict, although Christopher's drugs were very much different. He got high on the feeling of control of having someone's life in his hands and when release came in the shape of murder, he felt like ejecting all of his frustration and aggression. It was liberating. It was indescribable. In that moment and a while afterwards Christopher felt absolutely free. There was no more anxiety burning at the pit of his stomach, no more voices, no more anger coursing through him like liquid fire. The period of freedom lasted for a while, but then gradually the darkness within him reared its head and demanded another sacrifice in the name of his freedom.

Andrew brought in a private tutor to teach Christopher martial arts. He also demanded of Christopher to meditate every day, giving his darkness a shape and then controlling it with the force of his will. When he started prolonging the period between killings Christopher felt like going insane. But Andrew was merciless. He would lock Christopher up in his house when he was not there, just in case he could not control himself anymore and tried to run away. But even in his darkest moments Christopher did not try to run away. He was slowly sinking into a deep, dark hole and he did not see a way out.

One very warm day Andrew and Christopher were in Andrew's garden. Christopher was weeding. Andrew knew the value of physical activity at times like this and tried to engage Christopher in any kind of it whenever he could. In one moment Christopher asked whether he could have a couple of dumbbells to work out. He had no idea why he thought of it – he had never worked out in a gym before. But already the next day he found a whole private gym waiting for him in Andrew's garage. Andrew brought in a coach to explain the basics to him and Christopher soaked it all in like a sponge. It felt like a ray of light in the dungeon he had been living in for years. Lifting weights seemed to be exactly the kind of thing Christopher needed. He could let it all out and did not need to control himself like he had to while doing martial arts.

One day the Imperator paid them a visit and announced he chose Christopher as the next Ruler of the Order of Britain. The news had a strange effect on Christopher. On one hand he did not care about it at all, but on the other hand it had a sobering effect on him. It felt like someone had upturned a bucket of icy water over his head and for the first time after he started sinking into the abyss he looked around himself and saw the remnants of his old life, the people who helped him and cared about him and his PhD.

That day he spent boozing with Andrew. The following morning when he woke up he had a terrible headache and his whole body ached. He got up and dragged himself across his room. For some absurd reason he remained standing beside the mirror. He turned toward it and took a deep breath. He could not recognise the person he saw in the mirror. His hair had grown long because he neglected his appearance and he was developing a beer belly, which stood out on his lightly muscled physique. Then and there Christopher decided it was enough. He would take control over his own life and he would face whatever he had to become the person he had to become.

He started working out in the gym, eating regularly, keeping his hands off the beer and meditating twice a day. He wrote his PhD within six months and handed it in. His power of will was rekindled and it took him to heights he could not have imagined they existed. He turned his attention to feeling his environment and the people around him, carefully analysing and controlling whatever he was sensing. Suddenly he could sense his inner Black Sun, overlapping with his own being, like a dark cloak which was draped over his shoulders. He was one with it. Their combined voices were one and the will of his Black Sun was his own. He did not need to question whether it was really his own or the voice of his Black Sun – they were one.

A year and many gained pounds later, he was promoted to the degree of Prince.

The greatest majority of Order members remained on the grade of Knight for the rest of their lives. Some ascended to the grade of Duke. But only a select few transcended the abyss Christopher had and became one with their own Black Sun, facing their own inner darkness head on and surviving it.

Spurred on by the impeding return to England, Christopher transformed rapidly. He built strong foundations for the new Christopher, and adding the rest of it was not as hard. It almost felt as though it had always been there. Kind Andrew watched the transformation of his pupil with unhidden pride and joy, carefully noting that Christopher had not killed anyone for more than two years and obviously did not feel the need to. In his opinion Christopher's ascent to the heights of the sixth grade was the most painful and painstaking transformations he had ever seen in the Order. And yet he had survived, both mentally and physically.

When they said goodbye to each other at the airport, Andrew felt deep sadness. His favourite pupil was leaving. But he was also very excited to see Christopher on the throne and what he would do with the British Order. Once he transcended the abyss, Christopher had the potential to move mountains in Andrew's opinion. He had no doubt Christopher would advance more and more and that he would rebuild the Order in Britain to become the most famous Order branch in the global Order network.

No one knew the details of Christopher's path, except the Imperator and King Andrew. No one knew what he had been through and it was good that way. It was too controversial and too strange for anyone to understand and accept.

He had gone a long way. But there was always a further step, stairs leading up. Christopher knew Amelia would play an important role in this.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

As if someone put a magnet on the British Order, within a week there were nine candidates for admission, which left Christopher very pleased. A very excited Frank arrived with Gregory to tell him the news and also ask about the initiation ritual they would be doing.

"It's finished, I just need to write detailed instructions," Christopher told them. The two exchanged excited glances.

"Can you give us any pointers? Is there something we need to know by heart?" Frank asked.

"Yes," Christopher said thoughtfully. "AMELIA!" he roared.

The two of them looked surprised toward the door. She was here? But of course, Christopher said he was dating her. Why would it be strange that she was here?

"Yes!" they heard an answer from somewhere upstairs.

"BRING ME THE RITUAL SKETCH, IT'S ON MY DESK," Christopher yelled.

Christopher lit a cigarette and leaned back.

Gregory and Frank did not dare to ask anything, although Frank was bursting with curiosity to ask how their relationship was going. In his opinion, Christopher was not type for relationships. At least the Christopher he remembered was not that type. Frank knew he had one-night-stands, but apart from that, nothing. Which was why it was strange to suddenly find out he was in an actual relationship and what was more, that the person he was dating had obviously spent the night at his place. Frank remembered how antisocial Christopher was. The old Christopher would not stand to have anyone in his apartment, because he liked to be alone.

Duchess Amelia appeared breathless and wearing a very girly summer dress. She was holding papers in her hands which she handed to Christopher before she even looked in their direction.

"Hi," she greeted them with a broad smile, then glancing over the content of the table. She moved away.

"Bring me another pack of fags while you're at it," Christopher said without looking at her, glancing over his handwriting instead.

Frank thought it was a bit rude of Christopher to just sit there and expect her to wait on him, but on the other hand he was doing it with everyone. He just wondered how Amelia accepted this.

After she placed a fresh cup of coffee and cigarettes on the table in front of him, she finally sat down herself and ran her fingers through her hair.

"The ritual is actually very simple," Christopher said. "The candidate is brought to the temple and is blindfolded right before the door. The reason for this is simply to make him blind to what is going to happen next."

And Christopher should know something about blindfolding people, Amelia thought. She should really learn how to control her blushing, it was getting embarrassing.

"I need at least four people who will be a part of what I called 'the scare team'," Christopher continued. "Their task will be to use any tool available to scare the candidate."

"May I ask what the point of this is, Your Highness?" Frank asked with a furrowed brow.

"The point of this, Duke Frank, is that fear is an instinct. It is what we and animals have in common. However at the same time fear is hardest to control. If the candidate manages to compose himself and trust us that much not to panic or try to run away, then he is ready for a career in the Order."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Frank asked with worry in his voice.

"On one hand, it's about trust," Christopher said. "On the other hand, it's about self-control. And both are criteria for admission. If a candidate can't withstand a bit of fear, how would he ever be able to do spiritual Work as we do it?"

"I see your point," Frank said, realising he should just go along with it, although he was still worried. "Okay, how do we scare him?"

"Use your imagination," Christopher said with a smile. "How would you do it?"

And Christopher certainly had a lot of imagination when it came to scaring people and torture schemes, Amelia thought. His brain was a factory of sick and violent ideas. Amelia supposed one just had to be born that way. That sort of thing cannot be learned.

"Well, perhaps play some horror music," Frank started. "Whisper in his ear."

The look Christopher gave him almost made Amelia laugh. Frank was not even an amateur compared to him.

"I see I will need to write instructions concerning that," Christopher remarked dryly. "You have no imagination, Duke Frank."

Frank scratched himself confusedly on the head.

"Once I feel it had been enough, I will lift a hand and the guide will scream," Christopher continued. "This is necessary because the whole process needs to stop as though cut with a knife. And there is nothing more effective for that than auditory stimulus. Which is why I want the guide to be female. Female vocal chords can produce sounds male cannot."

This time Amelia felt herself blushing violently and bowed her head. How many times he told her to scream for him because he loved the sound?

"After this the guide will remain by the candidate while the three of you gather around the altar. One will mentally open the portal in the north, one will do a mental invocation and one will visualise a column of shining black light right above candidate's head, descending into his aura and gathering around his solar plexus."

It was obvious Gregory and Frank did not expect something like that, but since they had no idea what to ask and were silent, Christopher assumed everything was clear and continued.

"Then follows the invocation which you already know by heart," he said. "It will be done in the same fashion as the one you already did during the Order founding ritual."

The two breathed with relief. They learned the whole paragraph in Latin by heart because they had no idea which part they would need to speak out loud. Plus holding a paper with the text in their hands was impossible, since they were holding hands.

"After this, the candidate needs to catch a glimpse of his Black Sun," Christopher continued. "The blindfold will be taken off and we will hang a second painting of the Black Sun in one corner of the temple. The guide will turn the candidate to face it. When his blindfold is taken off, the first and only thing which he should see should be the Black Sun painting."

"Brilliant," Gregory muttered, grinning.

"After letting the candidate soak in the energy, he will be first taken to you, Gregory. You will ask him one part of the traditional questions."

Gregory nodded. He knew what Christopher was talking about.

"Then he will be taken to Duke Frank," Christopher continued. "He will ask the candidate the second set of questions. Then to Duchess Amelia. And lastly, to me."

"May I ask how the questions are divided?" Frank asked.

"According to roles," Christopher said, looking down on his papers. "The questions are traditional, but I've added a bit of text in between. Each of you represents one face of the Prince of Darkness. One is inspiration and knowledge. One is pure power, which is sometimes destructive and sometimes creative. One is the power of magic. And I will be sitting there in the form of the Prince of Darkness himself."

Amelia gulped. The way he said it made all her blood go down to her knickers. Yes, it was a perfect role for Christopher.

"I will get my sword, that part is traditional," he continued. "Once he swears loyalty to the Order and to me, I will Knight him."

"After this, the temple could be theoretically closed, but I wish us to remain in meditation for a while. Let the new Knight be brought to his place and soak in the energy, feel our egregore. Once everyone is done with the meditation, we will shout our motto and leave."

Frank leaned back and seemed thoughtful, whereas Gregory merely looked very excited.

"We have nine candidates," Gregory spoke quietly. "Should we initiate all of them at the same time or in groups?"

"Let us do it in threes," Christopher said, waving off. "We will be having initiation rituals three weeks in a row, but it's much better than to have nine people to deal with at the same time."

Frank was about to ask why nine would be too much, given that they now had a large hall, but decided not to ask anything.

The ritual was certainly original and unconventional. But the first part, when they had to scare the candidate, was giving him a headache. However, since Christopher seemed to know exactly how to do it, he should write the instructions.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Once Frank and Gregory were gone, Christopher took Amelia to his study and gave her a book to read, while he sat down at his computer and began typing.

He had to complete the ritual so he could send it to Frank and Gregory, but he also had to write instructions for the 'scare team'. He asked himself whether people really had so little imagination or whether he perhaps had too much of it. Either way, the ritual had to be perfect and he would better write detailed instructions. He did not want to leave anything to chance.

"May I use the loo?" a voice asked underneath him.

Christopher looked down at Amelia, who was sitting by his feet with the book.

"That's fourth time in two hours," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have problems with your bladder?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she said.

"Does it hurt when you're peeing?"

"No."

"Do you have the feeling it's urgent but then you pee just a little?"

"Yes."

"Then you may not go to the loo."

She stared at him. He was worried she caught a cold because he was not careful enough with the cushions and all, but it seemed she did not.

"Keep reading," he said, pointing at the book.

He heard about it. When people were nervous they felt these strange urges which were basically an expression of their anxiety and an escape from the feeling. He would need to give her some meditations to do and see what was the cause of her anxiety.

Half an hour later Amelia's phone rang. She looked at Christopher.

He would have very much liked to forbid her to use her phone but he could not. It could be someone from the Order or someone from her firm. Banning phone calls and communication while she was here with him would have been contra productive.

"Answer it," he said therefore, handing her the phone which had been until then resting on his desk.

"Hi," he heard her say in the phone. "No, I'm busy. I can't talk about that right now."

Christopher half listened to the conversation.

"Well, don't ask me. You should ask him," she was saying.

He felt her tug at his trousers and looked down at her. 'Ellie has questions', she mouthed.

Christopher snorted and snatched the phone out of her hand.

"Christopher here," he said in Amelia's red Nokia.

"Wow, that was fast," he heard Ellie's voice. "Now I understand what my sister is doing."

Christopher rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath. She was cheeky and she was getting on his nerves. But she was a candidate for the Order. He should play nice.

"I won't keep you away from your kink," Ellie was saying. "I just want to know a couple of details so I can plan ahead. This initiation thing. Is there a dress code?"

"Formal, all-black attire," Christopher answered.

"Does this mean I have to wear a dress?"

"No, Ellie, you can wear a suit and a tie for all we care," Christopher said. "As long as it's black and posh."

"Good," she said. She sounded relieved. "Okay, you said someone would pick me up. How do I recognise him? Or her? I don't want to get into the wrong car."

"Amelia will be with them."

"Ah, okay," Ellie was saying. "One other thing. Does this event include stripping naked?"

Christopher heaved a sigh.

"No," he said.

"Good, that's all I needed to know," Ellie said happily. "Thank you. Enjoy yourselves."

She hung up and Christopher put away the phone.

"She has trauma when it comes to the dress code," Amelia said quietly. "Once she worked in a firm which organised a sort of a business meeting/party thing and they did not want to let her in because she was wearing a suit and not a cocktail dress."

"Did she quit her job?" Christopher asked.

"Yes."

He smirked. It sounded exactly like Ellie. He could not wait to see her Work in the Order. She had a lot of potential.

"Keep reading and no more talking," he said.

He heard Amelia sigh and the chain clanking as she changed position, leaning her head against his leg.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Christopher followed King Andrew's advice. He booked a whole bar for a party, ordered catering, told people to leave their cars at home and take taxis. He also instructed people to wear whatever they wanted and dubbed this event 'Order founding celebration party' and an opportunity to 'let their hair down'.

The members were secretly wondering whether Christopher himself could let his hair down and thought it was impossible. The man was never relaxed. His brain seemed to always be at work, concocting schemes, running algorithms, analysing things. It seemed to be an absolute impossibility that he could ever stop being a control freak and just have fun.

When he arrived to the venue wearing a black suit – without a tie at least – they thought their suspicions had been confirmed. He seemed to treat this as just another opportunity to watch them, think about their future tasks and observe their behaviour. And although he waved off and said they could do away with the official titles, they still addressed him with caution.

"Do you remember the time when you punched me in the face during one of such parties?" Duke Frank asked.

Christopher grinned, taking a sip of his scotch.

"I do," he said. "You were rude and you deserved to be punched in the face."

Count Gregory found this very amusing and began to chuckle, but he got serious when he saw Frank's offended expression.

"That was a very mean thing to do," Frank remarked.

Christopher smacked his lips and put his glass away.

"Do you remember what made me punch you?" he asked.

"Not really," Frank said, shrugging. "Does it matter?"

"First, I'd like to remind you of article thirteen in the Order statute," Christopher said. Here we go, Frank thought. Christopher just could not relax. He thought about work constantly. "'In case one of the members deliberately provokes another member, the provoked member has the right to defend his honour in any way he sees fit'".

"I provoked you?" Frank asked.

"And second," Christopher continued, ignoring his question, "what you said was: 'only pussies avoid sex magic'. Which was when I punched you."

"I said that?"

The look Christopher gave him made him bow his head and think about it.

"Point is, I didn't punch you without a damn good reason," Christopher said, getting up. He took off his jacket, folded it carefully and put it over the back of his chair. "I'll be right back."

He made a beeline for Amelia, who was sitting in one of the corners of the bar and laughing with Penelope. As he came closer, he saw Penelope kick Amelia under the table and the both of them looked in his direction.

"Dance?" Christopher asked, offering his hand to Amelia.

She blinked, staring at him from below. He resisted the urge to laugh at her stupefied expression, which was however gone within seconds.

"Of course," she said, accepting his hand.

Christopher was aware of the fact everyone was staring at him and Amelia, although they tried very hard to do it in a subtle way. A very suitable, sexy tune was playing. Christopher stopped in the middle of the bar – where a couple of people were already dancing – and turned to face Amelia, who grinned goofily at him. Her eyes were glinting as he placed his hands on her hips. The necklace he gave her was glinting in the light of the reflectors which were illuminating this part of the bar and he loved the sight of it. It meant she was his and his only. It was not hard for Christopher to take care of his pet, no matter how little time he had. It offered him a profound feeling of satisfaction to see her develop under his guidance, learning eagerly and performing every task he gave her.

He rubbed against her and felt her respond shyly. Her cheeks were flushed as it was often the case with her, what amused him to no end. Her fingers were gently caressing his neck and he felt her relishing the feeling of touching him, what he normally did not allow her to do. Now that they were obviously busy with their dancing – or foreplay, as it must have looked like – people felt free to stare at them and Christopher intended to give them a good show. Amelia was moving dexterously along with him, with her hips performing movements his could not, responding to his initiative.

She guessed what he wanted.

She was getting more and flirtier with each second and Christopher allowed himself to look down on her décolleté, licking his lips. She grinned and threw her head aback as he brought his head forward, pulling the delicate skin on her neck gently with his teeth and rubbing it in between them, knowing this was the best method for the skin to bruise, what was exactly what he wanted. Amelia knew that as well, but she did not mind at all. Her hands began wandering over his broad back as he next ran his tongue over her neck, with their hips moving as though they were glued together.

She moaned audibly as his right hand slid down toward her bum, playing along. Christopher could hear muttered comments. He grinned broadly as he pulled back and kissed her.

He felt her gasp in surprise as his tongue found its way into her mouth, but she responded eagerly, exploring his mouth with her tongue and breathing hard through her nose. He had never kissed her before and he knew this must have been a shock for her. But obviously a welcome one. He felt her heave a deep breath through her nose as he grabbed her bum with his both hands and squeezed hard. He had no idea whether Amelia liked people to watch, but he knew he did. And even though he was doing this show because of a specific agenda, he was thoroughly enjoying it.

"I'll fuck you in the loo," he whispered into her ear and felt her tremble under him.

"Okay," she whispered back.

He stopped moving and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the dance floor. He might have done it in front of everyone, but he thought it might have been too much. It might have ruined the point of the whole thing.

Although he really would have enjoyed it.

He dragged her off to the men's room, where one of the Knights gave them a confused look, but bowed his head as the Ruler of the British Order pushed past him and pulled Amelia along with him into one of the cubicles, where he slammed her against the wall and lifted her dress.

"You may be as loud as you want," he told her, fumbling with his belt while holding her hands pressed against the cold tiles.

"Whatever you want," she whispered, trembling under him.

As he pushed into her, she gave a loud moan. He grinned. He loved all the sounds her female throat could produce and Amelia certainly had a broad repertoire. The next moment he grabbed her neck, still keeping her hands pressed against the tiles with one hand. Well, he needed something to get off other than just fucking her and the way she gurgled when he squeezed her neck excited him to no end.

Amelia was certainly very vocal. At some point he loosened his grip on her neck just to be able to hear all the sounds she was making, which included loud moaning, gurgling, gasping and screaming. He heard the door open once and then close after a couple of seconds. Mission accomplished. And it was one of the more enjoyable ones.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"Which lesson was this?" Amelia asked, now leaning against the tiles with a goofy smile plastered on her face while he was adjusting his trousers. She pulled her dress downward.

"It was 'moan like a slut' lesson," he replied.

She chuckled.

"And have I passed?"

"With flying colours," he replied with a smile, adjusting her necklace. "But I want you to research on dirty talk."

"Okay," she said breathlessly.

He passed with his hand gently over her cheek and she rubbed her head against it. He knew she understood this as highest form of praise and that no words were needed.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

As Christopher sat down again and poured himself some water, he was aware of the dead silence at the table. It seemed that people wanted to say something, but no one dared to. Frank however watched as Duchess Amelia climbed the winding stairs up to her table. She was wearing something that did not seem to be her style, a very flirty short skirt which exposed her beautiful long legs and black high heeled shoes. Frank wondered whether Christopher bought her new clothes but then dismissed it. Christopher knew nothing about women's clothes. As Amelia moved through the Order members, people were grinning at her and were exchanging whispered comments. Amelia herself however was glowing from inside.

"You seem to be crazy about each other," Frank broke the silence.

"She's great," Christopher said, thoughtfully smoking and gazing into distance.

Frank smirked. He could not remember Christopher ever being in a relationship. He remembered how Christopher had one-night-stands every now and then, but when it came to relationships it was simply out of the question. But then again that version of Christopher and this one could not be compared. Christopher was right. Frank could not know what he had been through in the US. The man was promoted to the grade of Prince, which should tell Frank everything he needed to know. He crossed the abyss. He was born anew. And Christopher's transformation was so startling that in the beginning Frank could not connect the two people, the Christopher he used to know and the one who arrived years later to the Heathrow airport.

"I'm happy for you," Frank said with feeling.

In the beginning he was just angry at Christopher. They used to be best friends. And yet Christopher hardly paid attention to him. Since the moment he set foot on British soil he started giving orders and annoying people. But as time passed, Frank began to understand. He was sorry Christopher and he were not the friends they used to be but he could understand that as well. Christopher was given an enormous responsibility and it became clear to Frank how much he was giving to the Order only when he started hearing about the inhumanly ambitious plans Christopher was making. He would indeed transform the British Order and he was dead serious about what he intended to do.

He was striking foundations for a world famous Order branch.

Amelia and Christopher's little show – given that anyone who would stand close to the door of the loo could hear them fucking – had a strange effect on the Order members. The atmosphere was no longer strained and one could hear people laughing everywhere. A couple of female Knights took the trouble of requesting specific music and were now spinning on the dance floor.

"May I ask how you got involved with Amelia?" Frank asked.

Christopher smirked as he crushed down his cigarette.

"Relax, Frank," he told him. "I'm not going to punch you." Gregory, who was moving in the rhythm of the music while sitting and was slurping his colourful cocktail, laughed loudly. "You MAY ask whatever you want to, as long as it's not provocative. And that goes for me as well. We're off duty."

Somehow Frank doubted that but was encouraged by Christopher's words.

"She came to my house and we had a couple of drinks," Christopher said. "I told her what I wanted her to change in my house. I needed a gym but of course she could not have known that when she initially designed it. And the evening ended with us having sex."

"It could have stopped there, knowing you," Frank commented.

"You're thinking about the Duke Christopher," Christopher remarked seriously. "Stop drawing parallels. When you find yourself standing at that point you will understand what I'm telling you. That Christopher is dead, I have killed him."

Frank swallowed and looked down on his hands.

"I'm beginning to understand the depths of the transformation, even though I can't understand the transformation itself," he said.

For a while they sat in silence.

"I like her," Christopher said at length, now casting a glance in Amelia's direction. She was sitting with her long legs crossed and talking animatedly to Penelope. "She's nothing like the women I was involved with in the US."

"She's been promoted to Duchess while you were away," Frank commented. "She works very hard. You don't remember her as a Novice?"

"Not really."

"She was scared and insecure," Frank said. "And totally lost. But she worked very hard since the beginning and boldly kept crossing her own boundaries, bringing down walls."

"Yes, that sounds like Amelia," Christopher said with a secretive smile. "What about your wife, Frank?"

"What about her?" Frank asked surprised.

"Are you still with her?"

"Yes," Frank answered with a sigh. "We were separated for a couple of months. We went through a very rough patch. But then we got back together and now it's working again. The reason why we distanced ourselves was primarily because of the Order. I had to do the disclosure ritual and sign the contract with her. After that things started rapidly getting better."

"She couldn't understand it."

"No and she was certain I was seeing someone on the side," Frank said. "Or that I was drinking."

"Well, that's the point of the disclosure contract," Christopher said gravely.

Desperate need for something like the disclosure contract arose a very long time ago in the Order, while it was still sprouting branches across the world. With the strict rules in the Order it became evident that life with a partner was impossible. A member could invent some sort of a hobby in order to cover for the regular Order meetings and duties, but often this was not enough. There were specific duties within the Order which demanded of certain members to be constantly available.

Therefore the Order devised the so called disclosure ritual. The spouse would be taken to the Order HQ blindfolded and would enter the temple. The present members would be wearing masks, except her husband, the Ruler and two witnesses. The spouse would see and feel the ritual environment, she would get a brief and censured explanation of what the Order is and then she would sign, along with the Ruler, two witnesses and her own spouse, the non-disclosure agreement. The whole ritual was devised to allow the spouse to sense the energy of the Order, but the magic involved also served as a coercion tool. The sheer act of signing the contract magically put a seal on her acceptance of what her husband is involved in but also on the secrecy on her part. It was this fact that made most members stall as long as they could, until it was inevitable. The disclosure ritual meant in a way binding the spouse to one's will, but also grave consequences in case she broke her oath.

"And you, Gregory?" Christopher asked.

"I've had a long relationship," Gregory said. "But it's over."

"I remember. He was working for the security in a bank."

Gregory looked a little surprised Christopher remembered.

"Now I'm in between relationships," he said. "I'm taking it easy."

Christopher sensed this phase in Gregory's life had a lot to do with his initiation and was about to say something, remembering however he said this was just a party. On the other hand, he made rules for others, not for himself.

"Tell me about it," he said therefore.

Frank cast an amused glance at Christopher. So he gave in to the temptation after all and had to talk about initiation. He had been waiting for this to happen all evening.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"So you kept it a secret," Penelope said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he asked me not to," Amelia said. "He wanted to do it at his own pace."

Penelope smiled and shook her head.

"Is he that commanding and demanding in bed as well?" she asked.

"Yes," Amelia said, grinning.

"Thought so," Penelope remarked. "He seems to be that type. Anyway, I'm not sure whether I should say you're lucky because you got to be with a man that handsome or feel sorry for you. You know that all women in the Order drool whenever he passes by, even though we think he's an arrogant bastard."

As soon as she said this it was obvious she regretted it.

"Don't tell him I said that," she hastened to say.

"Of course not, Penelope," Amelia said with feeling. "Why would I? And anyway – why would you feel sorry for me?"

"Because it must be very hard being in a relationship with him," Penelope said. "I can't imagine how it must be to be constantly ordered about. Plus he's the aggressive type."

"It's fine," Amelia said. "I'm managing it."

"I heard he punched Duke Frank while they were still friends," Penelope whispered importantly.

This did not surprise Amelia at all. He must have had a very short fuse before, but now he seemed to have it under control. Along with everything else.

"Frank said something to him that didn't appeal to him so he punched him," Penelope kept whispering.

"Well, that was the old Christopher," Amelia said. "He's a Prince now. And I can tell you that his self-control now is remarkable."

"Good to know," Penelope said. "But still, who punches his best friend because of something he said?"

"Someone with a very short fuse," Amelia said, shrugging.

"You don't sound very shocked," Penelope said, narrowing her eyes.

"No," Amelia said. "I got to know him. It's true he used to have a much shorter fuse, but now it's fine."

"Well," Penelope said and sighed. "Who am I to judge people? We're all different after all. But you seem happy. You're glowing from inside."

Amelia grinned.

"I thought you were going to do it, right there and then," Penelope said. "It looked very hot."

"We need to find you a boyfriend as well," Amelia remarked with a grin.

"I'm done with men for a while," Penelope said, waving off. "I'm not saying I'm going to stay alone for the rest of my life but right now I'm enjoying my freedom."

Freedom was a relative concept in Amelia's opinion. Some might say she had no freedom with Christopher, but she saw this differently. She looked in his direction. He was sitting with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, what exposed his Black Sun tattoo and was talking to Gregory about something. The serious look on his face ascertained her he was talking about initiation or the Order or something along that line. She smiled and looked away.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Ellie sat leaned back, following attentively where they were going. She was curious, very curious. Perhaps she would have had more questions and would have pestered Christopher more, but her sister was a part of this. Ellie could not imagine her sister getting involved in something that was bad for her.

Her younger sister was sitting quietly beside her. Ellie had to confess Amelia looked wonderful in the close fitting, elegant black dress. She always had a wonderful figure, something Ellie was envious about. But Ellie learned that her sister recently started going to the gym and as a result her body got more toned and more beautiful than before.

Perhaps with the new, posh job Ellie would finally have more time to go to the gym. She had been neglecting it too often lately. 'In For the Kill' by La Roux was playing quietly on the radio and Ellie felt it was very fitting for the situation she was in.

All these changes in Amelia's life were obviously because of Christopher. She got more determined, more focused on herself and was more confident. Ellie could not deny Christopher was doing her good. She chose to ignore what they actually did in the bedroom and the way he controlled her life because she loved her sister and knew she wanted this. She stopped trying to rationalise the whole issue because it was impossible but also because Ellie was gay. She could understand the freedom of sexual choices and preferences and that they were as diverse as the human nature. She could not rationalise what turned her on. The fact that she was gay made it possible for her to be open-minded toward this and accept there were different people who liked different things in bed. During one of the early conversations, when Amelia was trying to explain it to her, she reminded Ellie of her preference for women with long hair. It was just one of those things which turned her on. And even though things which turned Amelia on were more serious and more complex than Ellie's love for long-haired women, it got Ellie thinking.

"Come," Amelia whispered to her sister.

Ellie climbed out of the car and allowed her sister to lead her by the hand toward the entrance of a large house. About a dozen cars already stood parked in front of it and Ellie recognised the black Audi which belonged to Christopher. Ellie was good with numbers and she remembered the license plate.

So her boyfriend was already here. Were they late?

Amelia led her into a small room which however looked very cosy. There were sofas and cushions everywhere which looked very welcome in the light of the few black candles which were burning. Three people were already sitting there in silence.

"There's the loo," Amelia whispered, pointing at a door. "Here's water in case you're thirsty. Someone will come and pick you all up. Just do as you're told and don't be afraid."

Amelia smiled at her reassuringly and Ellie nodded. For the first time in her life it was Amelia who was leading the way and not the other way round. In this moment Ellie confessed to herself that a part of her really wanted to do this, even though it sounded a little weird in the beginning. However she wanted to do this because of her sister. She wanted to understand her better and be closer to her. And she was now seeing one of Amelia's faces she had never seen before. She smiled softly as the door closed behind Amelia.

She was not afraid. Why would she be?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"The candidates are ready, Your Highness," Amelia announced.

"Excellent," Christopher said, glancing over her.

She looked stunning in that new dress he bought for her. However, as they overindulged a couple of days ago, she was wearing her red scarf tight around her neck. Her neck was namely covered in bruises. Christopher did not regret doing it, because he did it consciously. It was the losing control part which made him angry, but this time he did not lose control. He sometimes liked to leave a visible trace on a body part which was exposed to glance just because he liked her to be reminded to whom she belonged every time she passed by the mirror but also for him to savour the sight when she was around. He liked to know that it was he who did this to her and got aroused every time he would see a bruise on her he was responsible for.

The four of them sat in silence while the Knights prepared the temple. Christopher was smoking thoughtfully. When the initiations go through, the Order would have ten more members. Christopher started mentally sorting them into drawers according to who could do what. Ellie would certainly be welcome to work with Knight Peter, who was also a computer expert. Christopher was certain however that he was no match for Ellie.

Yes, he certainly had grand plans for the British Order.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ellie followed the woman who came to pick her up along with everyone else and came to stand in front of large, double doors.

"I'm your guide and I'm here to protect you," the woman said seriously. "Do you trust me?"

No, Ellie thought. But fine. The woman held up four blindfolds and Ellie resisted the urge to grin.

She allowed the woman to put it over her eyes, wondering why this was necessary. The following moment she jumped and a curse escaped her as the woman yelled something.

"Shhh," the woman whispered into her ear. "Don't speak."

Ellie shrugged, wanting to say she was sorry. She allowed the woman to steer her into the space beyond the double doors and heard them snap close behind them. It was impossible to say exactly how large the space was, but Ellie's pace which echoed on the floor told her enough. She was obviously in a large hall. Which smelled strange. What kind of incense was this?

She was told to sit and her hands began automatically probing around until she felt a smooth, wooden surface underneath her fingertips. She sat down and tried to see something underneath the blindfold, but it was impossible. The hall seemed to be in almost complete darkness and all she could see were dark tiles underneath her.

Creaking noises told her the others were led to chairs as well. Ellie would have very much liked to know exactly what was going to happen, but of course it was impossible. Still having those thoughts going through her head she felt something brushing against her leg and she stiffened up.

It felt like a spider. Ellie never felt spiders crawling up her leg but this sure felt like it. It was hairy and it was moving upward very slowly. As it reached her thigh, she heard the man sitting beside her gasp and she briefly wondered whether he was feeling the same thing. The hairy thing went up and Ellie's muscles were so taut that she was certain she would explode if this thing kept going. And then all of a sudden, it was gone.

She heard someone chuckle on the far right side, but it did not sound like a human voice, it was too deep. Then there was a whisper somewhere in front of her. And then behind her. Ellie had the impression the whisper just echoed around her, moving so fast it could not be human. She tried telling herself this was just a perfect acoustics system, but she felt something primal within her reacting to her surroundings. In that moment she knew they were trying to scare her and that she was being tested. And she felt anger waking inside of her. She was not sure WHY they wanted to scare her, but she would most certainly not run off screaming.

She concentrated on her breathing and tried to steady it as she felt something clammy brushing against her neck. The man sitting beside her was apparently not having a good day. Ellie could hear him panting and gasping. It annoyed her to no end. Now that she understood what they were doing, there was little that could happen to scare her. Even though she could not deny it was very uncomfortable at times, even painful. She concentrated on her breathing and tried to ignore whatever was happening.

At some point she heard a loud yell and then the whole hall went ghostly silent. Was it over? She could not feel anything anymore, except for the dull throbbing on her arm where someone had pressed something very hot against her skin.

She heard people moving around the hall and a strange thought popped into her head, which made her grin broadly. Was this how Amelia discovered her fetishes? She must have gone through the same experience. Was it possible she enjoyed it?

People started whispering and Ellie strained her ears to hear what they were saying. As their voices started getting louder, Ellie recognised they were speaking Latin. Ellie knew nothing about Latin and had no idea what they were saying, but it certainly sounded impressive. She recognised her sister's voice among others and was surprised with the aggressive note in it. As her voice rose to a shout, Ellie got goose bumps. Amelia sounded commanding, aggressive and impressive. Ellie could not connect this with the Amelia she knew.

And then, silence again. Ellie had a couple of moments to contemplate everything she knew and did not know about her sister before hands were placed on her shoulders. She was told to get up. She felt her legs were trembling as she moved slowly across the hall and was grateful she was left to stand as her guide obviously moved away to fetch the others. She needed time to compose herself and to stop that annoying trembling. Ellie was determined not to show fear or that they managed to intimidate her.

"I am your black sun, your whisper in the shadows," she heard the loud voice of her guide beside her.

"I am the passion for the night and beauty of the stars," she heard a male voice shout.

"I am power and I am knowledge," shouted someone across the hall.

"Desire my power and tremble before it!"

And then there was silence again.

"Behold, wanderer in the garish light, the beautiful darkness of your Black Sun," said the voice of the guide.

As Ellie felt fingers lifting her blindfold, all her hairs were standing on end. She had no idea how such simple sentences could evoke such a reaction in her, but there it was. Ellie had never heard anything more impressive. As she opened her eyes, for a moment she felt completely disoriented after wearing the blindfold for so long. But the one and only thing she saw first made her gasp.

It was just a painting. Or perhaps it was not just a painting. It was a painting of a sun, made on black canvas. The rays of the sun were glittering and the flickering light made it almost look like the rays were moving, dancing in a phantom breeze. Although the rays and the rim of the sun were beautiful by themselves, what really captured Ellie's attention was the inner part of the sun, which was black. It seemed to suck her in but at the same time spit something out.

A black hole, she thought.

She had no idea how long she stared at the painting. As she moved her glance away from it, suddenly remembering the blindfold was no longer there, a hand was placed on her shoulder. Ellie was steered toward a table which stood on an elevation right beside the painting of the black sun.

"Ellie," the man who was sitting at the table addressed her loudly. "Will you denounce the laws of this land, of this earth and of this society? Are you ready to tread the path of power?"

For a second Ellie was tempted to ask 'what the fuck do you mean by that', but she remembered Amelia. However strange all this sounded, her sister was a part of it.

"Yes," she therefore said.

The man just nodded solemnly. He asked the same question the other three people while Ellie stood and waited. She saw Christopher also sitting behind a table of his own on the elevation, but he was not looking in her direction. He seemed to be reading something.

Ellie supposed each of the people sitting at tables on the platform would ask her something and was not surprised when her guide led her to the man with a moustache whose table had been placed next to the first one.

"Ellie," he addressed her with a serious expression, "Will you devote your life to the Order? Will you always be loyal to the Order and put your work for the Order before everything else?"

This time she was ready and did not need time to think.

While the other three people standing in a row with Ellie were asked the same questions, she took her time to look at them. The man standing beside her, the one who kept gasping and panting during that strange scare session, looked as though he was about to faint. Ellie smirked as she glanced over him. She had no idea what was going to happen when she was led into the hall either, but it would take a bit more than a couple of hairy spiders and strange whispering noises to scare her.

As her guide placed her hand on Ellie's shoulder, she turned automatically toward Christopher, but her guide steered her away from him. Ellie smiled as she was turned to face her sister.

Three steps were leading to the platform where she was sitting so Ellie had to look up at her, but the sight of her sister sitting there and looking down at her with a paper in her hands made her both blossom with pride and awe. She looked paler than usual in the scanty candlelight, but she was radiating confidence and power. Her long earrings and her necklace glinted as she leaned forward a little.

"Ellie," she addressed her in a stern, loud voice. "Will you devote your life to your spiritual development and always strive to become more than human? More powerful, stronger and wiser than the rest of the sheep we call people?"

By the time she was finished with her questions, Ellie was gaping at her, feeling a powerful wave of awe washing over her.

It turned out she did not know her sister at all. Because this person was not her sister.

"I will," she whispered.

Amelia nodded sharply and then turned to the man standing beside Ellie, what gave Ellie the time to stare at her.

Ellie had always been the stronger one, physically and emotionally. She was always there for Amelia, as a crying shoulder, as a loving sisterly hand to guide her and help her climb out of deep, dark holes she continued falling into when she was younger. But this version of Amelia left her awestruck. It was the face of her sister she not only had never seen, but could never imagine seeing it.

As Amelia leaned back in her chair, Ellie was steered toward Christopher. With her head still full of questions and confusion, she watched him lean forward and fix the glance of his dark eyes upon her.

"Ellie," he addressed her in a voice which was deeper than his usual voice, what made Ellie check. How was he doing it? "Do you swear loyalty to this Order and to me, its Ruler?"

Ruler, Order, rules, laws. Ellie could not understand anything anymore, but at some point while standing before her sister she stopped caring. She wanted to be a part of this, whatever it was, so badly that she was ready to go to any length imaginable to get what she wanted.

"I do," she said loudly.

Christopher nodded gravely and pulled out a sword from somewhere. It was a beautiful, double edged sword which Christopher spun playfully in his left hand as he descended the three stairs leading up to the platform. His dark eyes seemed even darker than usual and there was this strange aura surrounding him. Ellie could understand why Amelia was crazy about him. He was not only handsome, but he was radiating that strange, exquisite power which felt like dark, shimmering dust falling on all her senses which were now in a constant state of overload.

"On your knees," whispered the brown-haired woman who had been guiding her until then.

Ellie lowered herself on her both knees and watched the tip of the sword rise. She held her breath as she stared at his shoes. In that moment she became aware of the fact she was panting, but was not sure why. She was not scared and she was not tired. The energy which surrounded Christopher was so overwhelming that she felt dizzy and intoxicated at the same time.

"By my authority, the Ruler of the British Order, the Order of the Black Sun will henceforth recognise you as one of us," she heard him say in that same, eerie deep voice. "With all duties and privileges which your title entails. Hereby, Ellie," at what she felt the cold blade of the sword being lowered on her head, "I, Prince Christopher, Knight you."

For some absurd reason Ellie felt tears coming to her eyes. And she was definitely not a person who could burst into tears for stupid reasons. She tried to blink the tears away.

The blade was lifted from her head and she tried to catch her breath as she saw it being lowered on the ground.

"Remember, Knight of the Black Sun – you are not kneeling in front of a human being, but before your true Self, which is perfect; all-powerful and all-knowledgeable. You are kneeling in front of yourself. But since you have been wandering in garish light, your eyes need to get used to the darkness. Therefore I stand here now instead of your true Self, until you touch it. And I am the embodiment of your own power."

Ellie grinned broadly. She loved what she was hearing.

"Kiss the hand of the Ruler as a token of your loyalty and trust," her guide whispered into her ear.

Ellie looked up confusedly and saw Christopher standing in front of her with his right hand outstretched.

But of course.

She took in her hand and kissed it. He just nodded.

"Novice Ellie, go and sit at your rightful place in this Order," he said. "And never forget the day you swore the oath and were reborn in the night."

He distanced himself away and her guide placed her hands on her shoulders. Ellie was helped to her feet and led toward a vacant chair. She immediately looked toward Amelia, who was sitting bolt upright and with her eyes closed. Ellie smiled. She had so many questions for her sister.

She felt a hand placed on hers and looked up. The woman who was sitting beside her smiled at her reassuringly and nodded at her. Ellie smiled back. Apparently she wanted to express her welcome this way, even though it was obvious no one was allowed to speak. Ellie looked toward the middle of the hall just in time to see Christopher brandish the sword and then slowly place the tip of it on someone's head, who was kneeling in front of him. Ellie caught herself vaguely wondering how heavy the sword was and wallowing in the wonderful waves of energy which was still coursing through her, comparing it with post-coital bliss.

Christopher finally returned to his place and sat down, putting the sword away. Everyone closed their eyes and Ellie did the same. She could not think about anything in particular and her thoughts were jumping from one thing to another. Now certain this was meant to be a meditation or something similar, she was grateful for the time-out and just relished the feeling of sitting there, alone with her thoughts. At some point she had enough of it and opened her eyes to look around. The hall she was sitting in was very spacious. There was a tall table in the middle of the room and right behind it were wooden chairs. Ellie knew now she was sitting on one of them during the scare session. There were about a dozen people sitting in a circle around the hall and some of them already had their eyes opened, but were still sitting quietly and were not moving, obviously not to disturb the others. In the opposite corner of the hall stood the beautiful painting of the sun Ellie first saw when the blindfold was taken off. From where she was sitting she could not see any details and wondered at the feeling she had when she was staring at it. It all seemed so distant and strange – did she really feel what she did? How could a single painting have such an effect on her?

The podium resembled those one could see in lecture rooms. There were four small tables on it and her sister was sitting at the one closest to Ellie. Ellie looked toward Christopher, who was sitting with his eyes open and was staring at his hands. His chair was different. It had black velvet padding and there were wooden ornaments lacing the back of it. It was too far away to make out any details, but Ellie hoped she would get the chance to have a better look at it.

"This ritual is finished," Christopher said suddenly. "Potestas scientiaque supra omnia!"

The rest of the present people shouted the last sentence in Latin in unison, after what Christopher got to his feet. Ellie looked around herself. Everyone else was still sitting so she supposed she should do the same. She watched as her sister got to her feet as well and followed Christopher across the marble floor toward the door. Once the door closed behind the four of them, people seemed to relax.

„Congratulations," said the red haired woman who squeezed Ellie's hand a few minutes before.

Before Ellie had the chance to understand what was going on, she embraced Ellie and patted her on the back.

„Are you okay?" asked a man beside her.

„Yeah," Ellie said. „I'm just wondering what the hell just happened."

He laughed and embraced her.

„Just take it slowly," he said. „Make small steps. Come on, let's have a nice drink. You look like a person who needs one."

Ellie allowed him to steer her out of the hall and into the salon through which they passed when they were first led upstairs. The salon was now a buzz of voices and Amelia caught sight of her sister sitting at the other end of the salon. She made a step in that direction, but a hand was placed on her shoulder.

„Come and sit with us," the man who led her out of the hall said.

„But I just wanted to talk to my sister," Ellie said in surprise.

„She is currently discussing something with Prince Christopher," said the man, steering her toward a vacant table. „It would be rude to interrupt them."

„All right," Ellie agreed.

She could see why it would be rude to just barge in on them, but that never bothered her. However, it was obvious from what she had seen that people in this organisation were very polite to each other.

„You have to explain those titles to me," Ellie said as she sat down.

„Of course," said the man with a smile. „I'm Knight Timothy by the way."

„Nice to meet you, Knight Timothy," Ellie said with a grin, shaking his hand across the table.

„Here you go, dear," said a voice behind them.

A glass of juice was placed in front of Ellie, who looked up. The brown-haired woman who was her guide smiled warmly at her from above.

„Are you okay?" she asked her.

„Yeah," Ellie said. How did she know what Ellie normally liked to drink? Although she would not have anything against a glass of cold beer right now.

„You were very brave," the woman said, squeezing her shoulder. „Everyone is impressed. By the way, I'm Knight Penelope."

They shook hands.

„Well, got to rush," Penelope said. „Plenty work to do. You just take it easy."

She disappeared down the corridor.

„Would you like something else? Don't know why she didn't bring you any booze. After all you've been through, I can imagine you would want something stronger," Timothy said.

„I suppose Amelia told her what I like to drink," Ellie said. „But actually I'd love a beer."

Timothy grinned and got to his feet. A cart with drinks was placed strategically in one corner of the salon. While Timothy was looking for beer, Ellie again looked toward her sister. Right now Christopher seemed to be explaining something to the three of them with a cigarette between his fingers and Amelia was leaning forward and listening intently.

„Here you go," Timothy said, placing a bottle of light beer and a glass in front of Ellie. „So, you're Duchess Amelia's sister."

„Duchess?" Ellie echoed. „Bloody hell, you really have to explain those titles to me."

„Oh yes," Timothy said. „There are nine degrees in the Order. Novice, Knight, Count, Duke, Marquees, Prince, King. Beyond the degree of the King there's one more, but no one really knows the name of it. They are called the Shadows. And of course, the ninth degree, that of Imperator."

Ellie's brain was overwhelmed with too much information, but any question she might have had was lost in the realisation her sister was, what – fourth degree? How long had she been a member here?

„How long has my sister been a member?" she asked.

„Oh I think about seven years," Timothy said.

„Seven years!" Ellie exclaimed. „And I had no idea!"

Timothy's glance softened.

„It's okay," he said, placing a hand on hers. Ellie hoped Amelia also told them she was gay, because sometimes she landed in difficult situations just because she was too friendly with men who then got the wrong idea. Although Ellie could not understand why. She felt it was blatantly obvious she was gay.

„The rules are very strict," Timothy said. „Breach of secrecy is something very serious."

„Why?" Ellie asked.

„To protect the Order and its members," Timothy said simply. „And to keep our knowledge for ourselves. What is taught within the Order could be dangerous for those who are not ready. And there are a lot of bunglers and dabblers in the world."

„I don't know anything about what the Order teaches," Ellie said.

„Oh you will learn. I just wonder who will be your mentor," Timothy said with a smile.

„I get to have a mentor?" Ellie asked.

„Sure," Timothy said. „Someone has to guide you and help you on your way."

„Well, can you do it?"

„I don't get to decide," Timothy said. „But I like you. I'd like to work with you."

„Who decides?" Ellie asked, ignoring his comment.

„Prince Christopher."

„Okay, I get it," Ellie said. „Strict hierarchy, right?"

He shrugged.

„When can I talk to my sister?"

Timothy looked toward the table at the far end of the salon. Amelia was no longer there.

„Maybe she's in the ladies' room," he said. „So this is your chance."

Ellie did not need telling twice. She got to her feet and quickly crossed the salon, heading toward the door which she already noticed on her way up. And Amelia was there. She was checking her makeup.

„Ellie," she said with a broad smile. „I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you before."

Without further ado she embraced Ellie and put her head on her shoulder.

„I'm so glad you're here," she whispered.

And she seemed to be back to the Amelia Ellie knew. Shy, warm and friendly.

„I've got so many questions for you, little sister," Ellie whispered, rubbing her back.

„And I'll answer them," Amelia said. „As soon as I have a spare moment. Let me just check whether Prince Christopher needs me."

„I bet he loves that title," Ellie whispered into her ear.

The two sisters parted and Amelia smiled at her.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

But Christopher seemed to have a lot to discuss with Amelia. Ellie had no choice but to go back to Timothy and her beer.

Within two hours however she was sitting surrounded by people and was feeling tipsy. In the beginning all this felt a little awkward, but now she was feeling great. Of course everyone knew she was gay and absolutely no one had a problem with it. On the contrary. Ellie learned that people in the Order were very open about sex and had no problem with anything sex-related. She also learned that all Order members were highly successful in their careers. Timothy worked at the court, Melanie owned a law firm, Martin was a highly successful psychiatrist. They were all very open-minded about everything, they were not judgemental and they were all, from first to last, eccentric.

Ellie loved it.

What she learned about the Order should not have surprised her, but it did nevertheless. The Order of the Black Sun was an esoteric organisation with insanely strict rules. But it was also a political organisation.

"So what exactly is the goal of the Order?" Ellie asked Timothy.

"Apart from the esoteric work we already talked about, the goal of the Order is to push the country in the direction it needs to go," Timothy said.

Ellie widened her eyes.

"But the British Order is too small yet to accomplish anything on such a grand scale," he added.

"I just don't see how this could be possible in general," Ellie blurted out.

Timothy smiled.

"Orders which have a solid number of members, meaning between fifty and one hundred, can accomplish a lot," he said. "Apart from the fact that the members are all active in their own domains, there is group magical Work done."

"I see," Ellie said thoughtfully. "So it's a combination of team work and magic. But why? Why push Britain in some direction?"

Timothy inclined his head.

"Are you totally okay with everything that has been going on?" he asked. "Do you really think this is as far as we can go?"

"I see your point," Ellie said. "But how do you know in which direction the country should go?"

"That's the Ruler's task," he said. "He needs to know, we can only make suggestions."

Ellie looked toward Christopher. Now she could understand some things better. If he had such a responsibility here, then his relationship with Amelia was hardly a stretch. In a way they were just imitating and emphasising the roles they had in the Order.

"She's coming toward you," Martin said suddenly.

"Who?" Ellie asked, turning her head.

She saw her sister crossing the salon.

"Novice Ellie," she said with a smile. "And Knight Timothy. I wish to speak to the both of you."

Ellie got to her feet and followed her sister toward a vacant table right beside the one Amelia had been sitting at until then. She could feel Christopher's glance on her, following her every move.

"Well," Amelia said, sitting down. She was glowing from within, Ellie thought. "Did the older members explain some concepts to you?"

"They certainly did, Duchess Amelia," Ellie said, figuring she should address her sister formally.

Her sister smiled broadly at Ellie's first public use of her title and nodded.

"Your first task will be to write an essay about the initiation ritual you just experienced," Amelia said. "And it's best if you do it as soon as possible, because otherwise you might forget some of the details."

"Makes sense," Ellie commented.

"Once you're done with this, you will send it to Prince Christopher and Knight Timothy," Amelia continued. "It has been decided that he would be your mentor."

Timothy smiled broadly.

"We'll leave you in his expert hands," Amelia continued. "Prince Christopher wishes you to quit your current job as soon as possible, so you could start with your work for the Order. You will be cooperating with Knight Peter. Your tasks will be sent to you, but Prince Christopher suggested you meet with him to get to know him."

"What about the gear I'll need?" Ellie asked. "If I quit my job, my gear stays there."

"You will make a list of the things you need and we will procure them for you," Amelia said. "Do you have any questions?"

"Loads," Ellie said. "But they can wait."

The both of them smiled.

"Now go to Prince Christopher, he has something he wants to tell you."

"I'll wait for you here," Timothy said.

Ellie got to her feet and headed toward the table where Christopher was now sitting alone. The glance of his dark eyes travelled over her and the corners of his lips twitched.

"The Order has high hopes for you, Novice Ellie," he said in his bass. "How was the ritual for you?"

He did not invite her to sit which was why she remained standing. It was just the kind of thing one would expect from Christopher.

"Fantastic," she said. "I thoroughly enjoyed it."

He smiled secretively and nodded.

"I thought you would," he said. "Well."

He got to his feet and to her surprise, put his arms around her. The following moment she embraced him back, remembering random people coming toward her after the ritual and embracing her. It seemed to be a custom in the Order.

"Welcome," he said, parting with her. "I look forward to seeing your work."

He extended his right hand toward her and for a second, Ellie stared. But then she remembered what she needed to do. She kissed it.

Christopher merely nodded at her and went back to his place, whereas Ellie was approached by the smiling Timothy. He seemed to be beside himself with joy he was elected as her mentor. Ellie tried to follow what he was telling her as he led her down the long corridor to the library, but her thoughts were with her sister.


End file.
